Death of a Flower
by Rani07
Summary: Kudou Shinichi, a lionized and world-weary detective, is given an unusual case which might attenuate his apathy. Discover the identity of a girl and determine her connection to a scheming Komatsu Corporation. Shinichi x Ran. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm publishing the first chapter before I edit it for the 100th time. Darned obsessive compulsion._

_AU Time~_

_**Disclaimer I: **Neither the characters nor their personalities are the product of my imagination. Although they are slightly... different. Oh well, you'll see shortly._

_**Disclaimer II:** This fanfiction contains elements of satire._

_**Disclaimer III:** This fanfiction contains sexuality suitable for teenage audiences._

_**Disclaimer IV:** This story is my _weirdest_._

**Death of a Flower**

* * *

><p>CHAPTER ONE<p>

* * *

><p>Within the International section of Monday's newspaper, an article which seemed a mutant of the National, Local, Editorial, and Comics sections read:<p>

_"Beika citizens enjoy a day of celebration after The Meridian magazine proclaims Beika as 'The World's Best City.' The title was carefully granted after years of rankings consistently placed Beika among the cities most technologically advanced, economically gifted, culturally vibrant, and with the most stable of infrastructural systems._

_"Despite its relatively small population when compared to the other twenty-three wards of Tokyo, Beika possesses the highest GDP of all wards and one of the highest among cities worldwide. Unemployment rates in the city have also been reported at an all-time low, while minimum wages have reached an all-time high. Most attribute these economic advancements to the numerous corporations agglomerated in the city, most of which opened their branches in Beika since the early 1980's. _

_"Such financial stability has granted Beika City an Infrastructure score of 99 out of 100 possible points. Citizens openly express contentment with their hometown, in matters monetary and even educational._

_" 'No economic problems. Beika has no such things,' a businessman stated on his way to work, who requested his name not be released._

_" 'There are so many good colleges here, and there's wide access to internships in really big corporations,' expressed Toutou student Kosugi Rika, who graduated in Marketing last fall. 'So many organizations and companies are willing to give students voluntary work experience. And one really needs that to enhance job opportunities.'_

_"Indeed, the seventy-two international corporations located in Beika City provide a wide variety of mostly unpaid internships for students. These companies also implement environmentally-friendly policies. Such corporate responsibility has permitted Beika's high GDP as well as its commendable Environment grade of 100. The city's Education score was also reported at 100; an unusual yet also expected percentage from a ward with some of the lowest high school dropout rates in the na—"_

"Kudou…"

"Hm?"

"What's the answer to number four?"

"Number four?" His eyebrows rose involuntarily. He'd finished the thirty questions some minutes ago.

"I don't know how you understand this stupid language. It makes no sense."

A thoughtful grunt rolled in his throat. "Most people think of it that way." The young man extracted his homework, completed and containing English more eloquently expressed than that of his teacher, and passed it to the other's desk. "Just go ahead."

"Thanks!"

Immediately did his classmate incline his head, overcome with a sudden wave of meticulousness and dedication previously unseen, as he duplicated the work word for word. The paper's author seemed perturbed. "Er, wait. You can't just make a carbon copy. Can't you paraphrase?"

He received a blank stare. "Can't I what?"

"Write the answers out differently. Just read what it says, get the meaning, and then express that same meaning in your own words."

He stared at the paper blankly, before slowly gaping back at him. "I don't understand the meaning. And I can't write it in my own words."

"Listen, if you don't, then we'll both get—"

"That's why I'm asking you for help."

"I'll give you help. What I _won't_ do is sit here and just let you…" His words rolled away and ceased, as he brooded, and frowned. Silence ensued between the two high school classmates for an awkwardly long moment. Eventually did the linguistically gifted young man sigh, before he resumed his reading. "Just copy those if you'd like."

His dark blue gaze desperately sought the printed article. _"—_Education score was also reported at 100; an unusual yet also _expected percentage _from a ward with some of the lowest high school dropout rates_—"___

"So I can use your answers?"

The young Kudou glowered at his goggle-eyed companion. "Yes, you can."

Impatiently did he skip the section he'd been perusing, jumping ahead to the next paragraph.

_"__On a similar subject, the city was granted a Health Care score of 100. Such news offer no surprise after Toutou University medical graduates were attributed with discovering a cure to the HIV virus earlier this year, overcoming a giant stepping stone in the field of medicine and science, as well as improving humankind's immunological advancement. Plans to produce a preventative HIV shot have been announced by medical agencies such as Komatsu Biological Research and others in the greater Tokyo area._

_"Additional data on Beika City, though not officially scored nor categorized by The Meridian, was published in conjunction with their report in the attempt to provide a thorough depiction of the city. Among these statistical 'Extras' were included Beika's violence rates, which were reported at a remarkably low 5%, with last year's numbers revealing merely twelve suicides and two gun-related murders having taken place.__"_

The words revived a three-month-old case. An image swayed back into his mind, the face of a primary school child, his eyes prematurely carrying that hideous gloss he knew too well. Cyanide had stiffened his muscles and glazed his eyes; his expression held a tragic level of maturity. The boy had reminded him of himself—his yearlong personality as a child—and of the outcome he'd escaped.

That boy wasn't included in the article, apparently.

With a grimace, the adolescent raked his fingers through his hair, his appearance now exhausted and unruly.

_"Both of these murders, eight of the suicides, and a staggering number of criminal cases have been handled by the eighteen year-old high school detective Kudou Shinichi, a Beika native and resident, popularly dubbed 'The Sherlock Holmes of the Modern Era.' The adolescent prodigy with a proficiency in comprehending all matters criminal has too, along with a considerable number of intellectuals and cultural icons, budded from this respectable, responsible and pleasant blah, blah, blah…"_

Kudou Shinichi tossed the newspaper onto his desk, leaning against his palm with a bitter taste in his tongue and mind-numbing weariness. The English teacher continued speaking at the front of the class (tediously… very tediously), explaining pronunciation patterns within the least phonetically logical language for students to scrawl, memorize and repeat monotonously.

"In these nouns, the second to last syllable must be emphasized. To convert them into verbs, stress the final syllable instead. Let's use this word as an example: 'Present.' If you want it to be a noun, you must emphasize the second to last syllable—the word shall then be pronounced _pre_sent. When it's a verb, emphasize the last syllable—pre_sent. Pre_sent: noun. Pre_sent_: verb. How about this one…"

Shinichi decided he would give the newspaper an opportunity to redeem itself, and rapidly flipped the pages to the section he'd been reading. An article caught his eye. "HIV Cure Causes Dangerous Side-effects."

With a scornful toss, Kudou Shinichi abandoned the paper. More articles on so-called modern society would make him explode.

"Cut it the hell out!"

The hiss emerged from a few meters beyond. A girl snarled at a grinning male, the latter who wiggled a pencil which he'd used in prodding her waist. Shinichi glared perspicaciously._ Phallic objects to poke a girl with. Typical primeval behavior._

She resumed a whispered conversation with her friends, her face growing somber as she muttered, her companions becoming unblinkingly attentive. For a moment in her monologue, she glanced at Shinichi—not longer than a mere moment—before she swiftly looked away. Her face reddened instantly and after sharing a whisper with her friends, her cheeks flushed even further as they giggled excitedly.

Shinichi, however, remained immutable as he sat in his desk, his cheek aloofly resting on his palm.

"Kudou Shinichi-san."

The teacher's stentorian voice woke him with a jolt. He'd been caught looking at girls instead of the board. He possessed a Japanese newspaper on his desk while sitting in an English class. He was gaping instead of answering. The forty-something year-old woman spoke strictly. "See you after class."

Once the teacher was gone, Shinichi grumbled and bumped his forehead against the wooden desk.

"Lucky bastard…" muttered his cheating classmate with a sly grin. Shinichi frowned at him.

"Lucky? I'm getting scolded. Not to mention Tanaka-sensei must hate me by now." He'd corrected her English pronunciation at the beginning of the year, suggested a more efficient way of phrasing a sentence she'd written herself, and repeatedly skipped her class to instead attend cases with the metropolitan police. It seemed sensical to say he had enough troubles with this lady already.

The guy scoffed. "Yeah, right."

Shinichi observed him return to a previous task, stretching to a friend's desk in order to sketch an obscene picture of a woman. The detective deadpanned while watching the degeneration of his classmate as his perfectly answered homework still sat on the desk, now completely forgotten. Apparently half of the fourth question had been answered before instinct had gained his favor.

_What a crappy drawing…_ Shinichi concluded while rescuing his work, recalling the female corpses rigidly stored at the city morgue. Some of them had never been claimed.

Fifteen minutes of class time zoomed by and the bell rang, whereupon his teacher made a beeline for the door.

"Tanaka-sensei!" Kudou Shinichi sprinted towards her, finding her already at the doorway, holding her folders. "Didn't you need to speak to me?"

She observed him calmly. "I have no time. Can you stay after school?"

The metropolitan police had requested his presence that afternoon. _"As soon as you get out of school,"_ the good old Megure-keibu had said. He could squeeze a reprimand in. "Yes I can, sensei."

"Meet you in your classroom after the bell, then." She nodded before marching away. Shinichi found the usage of the word "meet" instead of "see" unusual, though he couldn't determine why.

* * *

><p>Time proceeded naturally and never elongated sadistically, which surprised the young detective, considering he had eagerly anticipated an investigative errand that entire morning. That Monday, an early-March Monday, promised to be busy and engaging.<p>

Deductive reasoning in criminal contexts was Kudou Shinichi's monomania. He lived and breathed forensics; they were the sole subject which piqued his attention and challenged his cognitive processes. If cases failed to emerge, he often studied a variety of texts in the library of his home, from analyses on ballistics to forensic entomology; rarely did he touch his textbooks from school, as he ironically found little intellectual enlightenment or relevancy in them.

If no book drew his attention, lethargy overwhelmed his life. Frequently would he remind himself of Sherlock Holmes, a character which expressed nearly bipolar symptoms, as he grew enraptured by a case and suffered a dolorous depression when void of stimulus. Shinichi thanked his genes for not predisposing him to drug interest and most of all addiction, or else he would've resembled Holmes with disagreeable closeness.

A large cause beneath Kudou Shinichi's desire for intellectual stimulation, and his subsequent restlessness when unoccupied, emerged from the fact he did live alone. Since age fourteen, he'd swiftly developed into a young adult in the absence of his parents; living independently had deepened his maturity, isolation prompted introspection, the autonomy heightened his responsibility, and his exposure to rather Machiavellian crimes had altered his perception of Beika's society and the world as a whole. Oftentimes, when a case was concluded and he walked in silence through the streets of Beika City, watching intoxicated middle-aged men grumpily return from an office party, girls gossiping ruthlessly while wearing Barbie costumes, and the occasional homeless youth stoned in the asphalt, Shinichi grew tired. And morally disillusioned.

He would remember the intricate murder solved—for insurance money, or twisted love—as the house keys collided against the wooden sideboard with a sonorous cling. The sound would harshly irrupt the morbid, pervasive silence of his house. And once the sound concluded just as abruptly, would silence enfold him. At eighteen years of age, world-weariness weighed upon him.

Amidst the hoards of acquaintances who stalked him, Kudou Shinichi had made a friend or two, though they didn't share his same objectives or ethical principles. Haibara Ai, for instance, with whom he'd become acquainted during his most high-profile case (and whose drug had rejuvenated him into Edogawa Conan… though that was another story.) She was intellectually and socially similar to himself, and thus they were good friends. However, her objectives in life differed sharply. Whereas Kudou Shinichi searched for a source of morality and ethics in his life to brighten his grayer days, Haibara Ai merely made them grayer. Her acerbic monologues on the nature of society (which, oddly enough, occasionally reminded him of his coworkers' cynicism) merely exacerbated his apathy and frustrations. He agreed with her on everything she uttered; and yet he didn't wish to hear himself speak; he wanted fresh air.

His parents were no source of support. They lived too distantly. Besides, Shinichi didn't see how a middle-aged couple focused on shopping, traveling from one hotel to another, signing autographs and threatening one another with vengeful cheating would provide any valuable advice on life.

He thus relied on criminal cases for escapism. Being presented a new mystery, overcoming its intricacies, and unfolding all facts before a befuddled audience demanded the analysis and dedication his intellectual mind required to ignore his surroundings. While realizing the scientific process, he often forgot the indolence of his classmates, the aloofness of his coworkers, the simplicity of people's minds, and the desolation of his house. He often felt at home.

Kudou Shinichi glanced at his watch, impatient to be scolded by his teacher, leave that silent classroom at once, and begin an apparently "unusual" case.

Just then, Tanaka-sensei slid open the classroom door. He rose politely from the desk he'd been leaning against as she stepped inside.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she excused herself with a small smile, which Shinichi accepted well.

"It's not a problem."

"These final exams are going to be the end of me. A whole month of preparation for them. How are you taking them? Are you studying?"

The detective was surprised by her lighthearted tone and friendly expression. She didn't seem angry or indignant at all. "Yeah. We have a statistics exam coming up in three weeks, and Japanese history is coming up then too. They're making us study, like you said."

"You study harder for those classes than you do for mine?"

Her smile had widened. It was startling. He had to rationalize his way out, swiftly. "I… know a lot of English already, from my parents. So it's not that difficult for me to learn the material. But I… still need to go over your lessons. There's some stuff in there_—_"

Amicably did she chuckle, stunning him into silence. "Don't worry about it, I'm not chewing you out. I asked genuinely. I know you're very well acquainted with the English language. You're fluent, aren't you?"

"I…" _What's going on?_ "Yes. It's actually my first language. My parents spoke to me in English until I was five; I learned Japanese when I began kindergarten but still spoke English at home. That was their way of ensuring I'd be bilingual."

"Wow, that's a really interesting idea! I'd never heard of that. Obviously it worked pretty well, didn't it? Considering your speech is so fluid now?"

Shinichi failed to comprehend the purpose of the meeting at this point. His bafflement must've been apparent.

"Maybe you can give me a couple lessons… sometime in the afternoons? You sound like a native speaker. The accent is beautiful. I'd like to practice my English. What do you say?" She'd unconsciously elevated the pitch of her voice, yet softened the sound; her lungs had expanded with trapped air, increasing the surface area of the chest; the spine curved to produce a faux round hip. She was feigning youthfulness. Her knuckles were turning anxiously white as they gripped a chair's back.

Shinichi believed he understood the actual inquiry.

And when he did, his eyes widened considerably.

He nearly laughed.

Had their genders been reversed, or had he been younger, he doubted the situation would've struck him as comical.

"I can't."

The teacher's face reddened, though he couldn't decide whether she was nervous, or embarrassed, or angry. Her gaze was impenetrable.

"Why not?"

"I have a case to attend to. The police are requesting my services this afternoon."

"A case?" She raised her eyebrows. "It sounds like the police have got you busy lately…" Her words stated one thing, and yet her gaze, absent and drowsy, thought another as it laid over him.

Shinichi smiled. The movement of his lips seemed to wake her. "Well, there sure is a lot of unlawfulness these days."

His grin sharply contrasted with his teacher's gape. He pulled up his satchel and exited the classroom. "See you tomorrow, sensei," Shinichi called out as he left.

Paralyzed in her stupor, the high school teacher took a long moment to gather her wits before stiffly following after him. "Beika City was named one of the most crime-free cities in the world!"

"Right," he chuckled before marching through the empty hallway and skipping down a set of stairs.

Tanaka-sensei remained inert in the lonely corridor.

She would fail her most intellectual, most bilingual student that trimester.

And Shinichi would frame and display his very honest, triumphant, and well-earned F.

* * *

><p>"So! Watcha got for me?"<p>

Kudou Shinichi rubbed his hands swiftly and impatiently, grinning as an eight year-old would during Christmas Day. The inspector of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, clad in a dulled orange overcoat, observed him solemnly. Inside, he couldn't resist chuckling at the boy's rare excitement. Not informing the teen must've fueled his curiosity.

"Good afternoon to you too, Kudou-kun," he responded with a tired grunt.

Shinichi maintained his smile. "That case pile has gained a few additions, from how I recall it last week. I'll gladly snatch a couple cases and ease your burden. You just have to say Yes."

"That case pile?" He gazed at the mounting stack of papers collecting dust, as if it had escaped his field of vision until then. "I don't know."

"You don't even have to say anything, you can just nod. Don't even nod. I'll take them."

He liked the kid. He was always very candid. Personable too.

"I do have a case for you, actually, right over here." The inspector reclined on his desk chair, opening a drawer and extracting a pack of gum along with a file. It was best to satiate the youth before he went on a crime-solving spree. "It can't exactly be called a 'case,' though. It's not a homicide, as I normally throw you." He stood from his chair and led the way out of his office.

"Is it a robbery?"

"It's not a robbery. It's not a crime at all, really. At least not yet." They were walking through passageways, doors to offices and conference rooms approaching and receding from both walls. Megure had given Shinichi the file to inspect.

"It's a girl who was discovered in an alley today around 2:30 AM, I believe. She's still unidentified. We're working on pulling up a file from Missing Person's, though it's difficult without a name."

"She won't identify herself?"

"She hasn't been able to yet, no."

"Is she emotionally disturbed? Or has she got a speech impairment?"

"Most likely both. We've had a psychologist check her up and the girl appears to show severe emotional trauma. Her voice is unknown, though the doctor said she's receptive to language. She isn't very socially receptive, though. Seems numb and won't interact. The doctor said it's most likely a case of mild dissociation, a common effect of emotional trauma. If not that, then her emotional numbness could be caused by a mental deficiency, though that's not known yet and it's for a neurologist to decide. It's not up to us."

"You said her voice is unknown. She hasn't spoken at all then?"

"Not a word. That's_—_"

"Regarding her identity, what about her fingerprints? Have you checked them?"

"There's no record of her."

"Any labels on her clothes?"

"That's actually an interesting part. She was found wearing a long white shirt with long sleeves. Some underwear, just the lower part. Nothing more. The labels had been discarded."

Shinichi looked up from the files. "Torn off?"

"Cut off. With scissors, most likely."

The young detective's gaze gleamed sharply. "Were her hands cut?"

"No."

"It's likely the one who took the labels off wasn't her. Torn them off, she could have, with enough stress; but not cut them precisely with scissors. The emotional instability would've wounded her while handling a sharp object." His eyes returned to the file. "Somebody made her unidentifiable."

The inspector ruminated such statement as he turned the metal knob of an inconspicuous door. Beside it, two meters away, followed another door with a window.

Both entered a dimly lit room. There stretched a long counter cluttered with notes, clean paper, pens, a phone, a fax machine, and tape recorders. Beside, a shut and locked metal closet contained items of surveillance. Before the counter was a rectangular window which offered a view into the contiguous room, containing a bolted-down table and two chairs. Shinichi witnessed a girl sitting upon one of them, uncomfortably. She scrunched her shoulders defensively; her long brown hair concealed her face.

"I've had six different people question her, she hasn't opened her mouth. She appears to be roughly your age, Kudou-kun. I figured she may talk to you."

"Haven't you tried women? There's more likelihood she'll communicate with_—_"

"I've had three women attempt to talk with her, including Satou-kun. And she's good. The psychologist was a woman herself." Megure pursed his lips and frowned with frustration, his eyes following him with empathy. "You're our last hope, Kudou-kun."

Shinichi deposited the file on the counter, his fingers remaining on the manilla envelope as his eyes followed the girl. With tensed shoulders and a rigid posture, her head drooped and her hands pressed together, concealed between her thighs. On tiptoes did her feet touch the ground. How sad and defenseless she looked. Her desolation struck him.

Kudou Shinichi turned to his superior. "I'll be back in a while, then."


	2. Chapter 2

_I earned a big, fat A in my neuroscience class! Let's celebrate!_

_But Before Then, In Case You Were Interested: __Shinichi's personality in this story is very closely represented by the song "Just Like U Said It Would B," written and sung by the wonderful Sinéad O'Connor (Live version recommended). Recently did I discover that his perspective on the world around him, his emotions, his passive aggression and the motives beneath his interaction with Ran are all very nicely portrayed in this song. Remarkable! (And hurray for Irish music! :D)_

**_Disclaimer: _**_Go sue somebody else. I'm penniless._

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><p>CHAPTER TWO<p>

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><p>Kudou Shinichi relaxed himself with a silent sigh as he entered the room. Walls glared a blinding white as fluorescent lighting quietly buzzed with electricity. Everything about the claustrophobic interrogation room looked awfully artificial. It was unnaturally bright and unnaturally barren. A metal desk was positioned against one of the walls, with two chairs, one of them currently occupied.<p>

Shinichi carelessly allowed the door to close on its own, and soon experienced its slow and shrill screech as it shut metallically and resonantly. He cringed dolorously as the young lady straightened with a jolt and swiftly glanced back at him.

She was pale, her features distinctive and youthful, her gaze grave and profound. Very profound. She quickly looked away, lowering her head while fumbling with her jacket.

Beika's youngest and most reputable detective made his way to the chair opposing hers with a gradual and measured stride, his mind grimacing all the while. What a failure of an entrance. Sharply screeching doors were typical of correctional centers or state prisons, were suitable for imposing oneself on convicted felons or offenders. Clearly, they were not appropriate for carefully approaching people who felt emotionally unstable and required a nurturing environment. It couldn't have gone worse.

Much tentatively, he touched the vacant chair, remaining by its side as he observed her.

"May I sit here?" he requested quietly, politely.

Her gaze was on the ground, and she offered neither Yes nor No. The adolescent awaited a response for a few moments, though perceived he wouldn't receive one. Slowly, unsurely, he pulled the chair back and smoothly settled upon its cold metal, allowing her time to object.

She never did.

Kudou Shinichi's penetrating gaze surveyed her appearance. Her arms were covered with impermeable black fabric; the metropolitan police training uniform. Officer Satou had probably given it to her.

She was a girl. Sixteen. Seventeen. Not more. Not a blemish nor bruise appeared on her skin, despite she'd probably been the victim of some offense. Particularly symmetrical she seemed, her nose centered and straight, her eyes framed by dark eyelashes as they darted about, both large and awake. She had beautiful hair, brilliantly and healthily shaded brown, which framed her small face, overwhelmed with its length the smallness of her shoulders, and contrasted sharply against her skin.

_What is she doing here?_ he wondered perplexedly.

"Hi," Shinichi muttered to break the ice. Only after speaking did he realize how socially inept he must've sounded. The detective flushed into a rare shade of crimson. "My name is Kudou Shinichi."

She met his gaze, seriously and cautiously, perceptively. To be observed in such an honest, analytical, and fervent manner was a novelty for the Eastern detective; he'd never encountered such solemnity in his peers, most especially his female peers. All of them looked, but none truly saw. He felt his existence was being seen, for a nice, nerve-racking change.

That bewildering occasion—where she searched intensely, and communicated wordlessly, and he felt indescribably calm and simultaneously anxious—lasted only for a moment, before her eyes lowered to her hands again.

"I'm Kudou Shinichi," he repeated, his voice emerging with difficulty.

Her lashes flickered as her eyes darted about, desolation and dubitation overwhelming her. She seemed to be repressing tears.

"I'm a detective," he whispered sympathetically.

Her eyes observed the world attentively and most cautiously. Their expressivity was most unique. Shinichi noticed that throughout their flitting—which gently and tentatively slowed, though he failed to determine after how much time this occurred—the tears were genuinely diminishing. And along with them, her desolation, fear, and suspicion. Gradually were those emotions being replaced by a calm studiousness, and a shy curiosity. Psychological defense mechanisms were vanishing. She was relaxing, becoming accustomed to his presence. She was regaining her identity.

Kudou Shinichi's ears detected a soft clearing of the throat somewhere beyond. Was it beyond the door? He glanced back at the adolescent girl before him, meeting her inquisitive eyes once again, realizing with sudden stupor she was observing him. In actuality, so immersed had he become in his musings, he'd failed to notice that she _had _been watching him all along.

Now decidedly flustered, Tokyo's most lionized detective glanced away from her gaze, feeling the warmth of his blood flushing his cheeks. The sensation of warmth only made him blush further. "I… what's your name?"

To his psychosomatic misfortune, she observed him with even more palpable interest. He was officially nearing facial combustion. "My name is Kudou Shinichi," the young man reiterated, his voice agreeably quiet. "A detective." And he indicated himself. "I'm here to help you."

Her expression remained exactly the same. There was no reaction. She demonstrated neither recollection nor acknowledgement. She didn't smile politely nor nod. She merely watched him. She _scrutinized_ him—his face for very long moments, before analyzing the shortness and darkness of his hair, the white and un-ironed collar of his shirt, and ultimately his hands. Hands massive and venous compared to her own, smooth, pale ones. So intellectually and studiously did she observe his appearance, Shinichi was dumbfounded. Her eyes didn't fall upon him critically, or impertinently, or maliciously, not even lustfully. She observed him innocuously, almost childishly so, and the manner in which she analyzed him and his clothes possessed a good-natured and curious air about it.

As if she'd never seen a young man his age, wearing a school uniform, with facial features like his own.

"Your name?" Shinichi wondered again, his voice remaining low. Locks of the girl's hair tumbled and shined lustrously as she glanced at her surroundings momentarily, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, before focusing her gaze on him again. "I'm Shinichi."

Heat recommenced its flow to his cheeks. Kudou Shinichi had deliberately made his name easier, had deliberately omitted the family name, given the unusual circumstances. Furthermore, the girl was carefully studying the movement of his lips as he spoke. He extracted composure from every crevice of his being; whatever remained of it. "Shinichi," he repeated, pressing his chest. Gently did her lips part as she observed his own mouth move. He repeated the motion. "Shinichi." And indicated himself.

She opened her mouth, hesitating, furrowing her brow as if she pondered over her own identity. Absently did her fingers touch her lips—Shinichi's gaze sharply detected how smooth and unmarked her fingertips were—before they left her face, and settled near his own hands.

"Ran. Twenty-nine, fourteen."

Soft.

Nearly negligible.

He'd caught it.

Shinichi grinned enthusiastically. "Ran. That's a beautiful name, Ran." He couldn't decipher what those numbers signified. "I'm Shinichi."

She slowly smiled at him, almost shyly. Her gentleness made her seem shy. For a moment, they shared jubilation in their effective communication.

"Ran." Kudou Shinichi's body tingled, in the manner it always would during peculiar cases. Oddly enough, while clearly excited with the progress, he felt strangely calm and relaxed. Her psychosomatic relief must be contagious. "What happened to you?"

She was processing his slow speech, her brow gently furrowed.

"To you? What happened?" Shinichi repeated, watching her frown in thought. Either she didn't want to answer or she genuinely didn't understand.

"Yesterday?"

The frown suddenly disappeared. Her eyes brightened at the word.

"Yesterday?" she repeated.

"Yes… yesterday."

Ran frowned and glanced away.

"What happened?" The high school detective pressed forward, one of his hands gripping shut. Ran noticed the anxiety in his fist and the intensity in his eyes, and thus muttered.

"Matsura-sensei."

"Huh?" Shinichi's eyebrows shot upward. _A teacher?_ "Matsura-sensei?" he prodded.

Ran never mentioned it again. "Komatsu."

He frowned, now fully and wholly perplexed. "Komatsu?"

"Kudou-kun, sorry to cut it short." Megure-keibu had opened the door and interrupted, sneaking half of his body in. "Can I have a moment with you?"

_NOT NOW_, Kudou Shinichi's mind growled irritably. He noticed Ran become smaller, her eyes once again desolate and distrusting. He loathed seeing her so vulnerable and surprised himself for feeling so irascible today.

"Yes, Megure-keibu. I'm sorry, Ran," he whispered to her confidently, promising with his gaze. "Wait for me here. Wait. I'll be right back, okay? Just wait." He rose when she relaxed her posture, and walked towards the large man. Megure closed the door behind them.

"We have someone who's come up to the police station, about half an hour ago, looking for a girl with a physical description similar to the girl in here. What's her name—Ran-san."

"Someone is inquiring about her?" Shinichi wondered. Speechlessness unexpectedly imposed itself upon him, and slowed his lips. "But… did this person file a Missing Person's report or—"

"No, no, just arrived giving a description which is dead on. He's explained she has brain damage which caused her lack of verbal development, so she can't speak almost anything at all. As I said, the physical description is accurate; even her wardrobe description is accurate. Pull 'er out of there, Kudou-kun, we're sending her home."

"But—"

The inspector became occupied with an officer and a ringing telephone, his gaze indolent as the phone began humming in one ear and a man yammered in the other. Shinichi silently entered the interrogation room to fetch their unknown girl, and found her sitting on the small metal chair exactly as he'd left her. He noticed the long shirt he'd been informed about slipping past the police jacket, winding around her hips and reaching the middle of her thighs.

How small she looked.

And so very vulnerable. How often would that word invade his mind?

Shinichi approached her and she faced him, her expression brightening instantly.

"Hi Ran. C'mon, we gotta go." He gently took her by the arm and guided her upwards. With his hand resting between her shoulder blades, guiding her path, they exited the room. Once in the hallway, he withdrew his palm from the warmth of her back. "Somebody's come to pick you up. They are looking for you." The young detective attempted to ignore the preoccupation and tens of questions those words generated in his mind.

Ran looked at him.

Kudou Shinichi had always valued and emphasized the importance of articulation. The ability to convey a message, whether verbally or in writing, to second or third parties in the most specified and idyllic language. Circumlocution was recurrent in speakers who were acquainted with little vocabulary, and it was subsequently the sign of an ineffective communicator, and was thus frowned upon by the Kudou family. The comprehension of detailed words and their effective, succinct usage therefore became a top priority in Kudou Shinichi's life. Often would this obsession be attenuated by the linguistic wonderland that provided his library, or perhaps the obsessiveness was exacerbated by the library and its thousands of books—Shinichi didn't know. What remained true, however, was that he condescended simplistic (and oftentimes vague) language, as well as its speakers, and most preferably avoided their unenlightened company.

Yet here he stood, in one of the metropolitan police station's shortest and most ordinary hallways, beside someone who practically couldn't speak at all. He wasn't even sure if she fully comprehended his words, or even the basic purpose of his speech. It remained ambiguous whether she rejected communication out of antisocial behavior or she was genuinely incapable of understanding and producing words.

At that moment, however, what little significance or relevancy resided in his words became lost. Even to himself. While she stood, her muscles visibly relaxing and growing inert, the expressivity of her gaze submerged him with her, into a warmth he found familiar despite he'd never before experienced it. He grew lighter, his feet tingled, and his heart pounded profoundly. He swore he was someplace else, an ocean where language didn't reside, but where thought and intensity were born.

An officer appeared in the hallway. "Megure-keibu, they're ready to check her out. A man named Mitsune Ryuuichi has already signed to pick her up. Says he's from the Komatsu Corporation."

The ocean in Ran's eyes vanished. They were instead plagued by fear as Shinichi, suddenly, felt the solid ground beneath his feet. He was dry and he was cold. Pallid and wide-eyed, Ran slipped behind him, gently clawing at his school jacket.

_Komatsu…_ Words returned to Shinichi's mind. He ruminated them carefully. _It's there again._

Megure distanced the phone from his mouth. "All right, Kudou-kun, take Ran-san to 303 and once they give you the go you can escort her to the main office."

An unintelligible whisper, soft as silk and frangible as glass, cried into his ear. He glanced back. Ran's eyes, wide and gleaming with tears, were pleading back at him. He gazed at her for a moment longer than necessary.

"What?" he muttered back.

Ran lowered her gaze, whimpering indistinctly as she gently butted his shoulder, tears swiftly falling down her cheeks as she looked at the ground.

Kudou Shinichi, reputable and canonized teenage detective, hardened his stare and observed Megure-keibu, who had resumed his telephonic conversation. The inspector looked exhaustedly bored and seemed determined to close this barely opened case.

No police officers roamed around. The single one who reported the news had disappeared.

However popular among the police, however important his observations were during homicide investigations, Shinichi knew they would dismiss his comments regarding some random girl with some random problem nobody understood nor cared to know about. They would close the tiny, incomplete file and rush home. Or rush to the pub.

It was useless…

When the inspector completely turned his back to them, the eighteen year-old gripped Ran's arm and pulled her towards the end of the hall with great haste, turning one corner, and then another.

To the careless passerby—by the manner in which he held her, by his steady and swift stride—it appeared as if the high school detective Kudou Shinichi were escorting the perpetrator of some petty crime. Had they observed more closely, they would've realized the girl wore a police training uniform, and not shaggy personal clothing.

Ran never uttered a word. Neither did she question his actions, nor even apply resistance. Her gaze was sharp, vivacious. She knew they were getting out of there.

_Brain damage my ass, _Shinichi glowered pensively.

What connection existed between Ran and Komatsu Corporation, and why was she so afraid of the biological research group? Why did an employee from that corporation enter the police station searching for her? Did Ran commit a felony against them?

_Impossible. _Had she done so, they would've reported it and certainly mentioned it upon arriving at the station.

Was the man who arrived at the station the one responsible for Ran's perturbation? Why did he lie about Ran's cognitive health?

She never mentioned a Mitsune Ryuuichi. It was only "Komatsu."

And then there was the teacher, Matsura-sensei.

They had reached the smaller, quieter, less frequented office in the back of the Metropolitan Police Station. Glass doors sensed their weight and promptly slid open, a gust of the March afternoon's breeze ruffling their hair.

"Kudou-kun!"

He froze, and Ran halted beside him. Perceptively did she watch Shinichi, before peeking at the man loitering near the elevator, where the voice originated.

Shinichi adjusted his grip on Ran's arm, swiftly growing anxious. "Yeah?"

"You leaving early? Aren't you coming to Ito's party tonight? Satou, Takagi, and Chiba said they'd show."

Relief eased the oxygen into his lungs, though some tension remained sensibly. "I think I'll bail out on you tonight. I got tests to study for. Besides, I can't really drink."

The man cocked an eyebrow and smirked at his incurability. "Studying…" He pronounced the word with disdain, and slight disbelief, as he glanced at Ran beside him. It seemed he interpreted the word Studying as something altogether different. Though he went along with the statement. "And no drinking. I don't know what makes you wake up every morning, Kudou-kun. Have fun anyway." He smiled at him and then at Ran, pleasantly and casually, his eyes first shrewd and then dreaming.

Shinichi protectively pulled Ran to the windy streets outside, barely feeling her body stiffen nervously, for his thoughts were too occupied incinerating his brain and boiling his blood._ Lascivious asshole. Why doesn't he jerk off mentally with somebody else, that goddamn_…__

Beside him, Ran watched their surroundings awkwardly. The small, plastic cars zooming by; the raspy pavement; the tall structures punctured with gleaming windows, hovering rectangularly, grimly; the occasional, thin and delicate tree very methodically planted in the median. She looked at this small tree the longest, while Shinichi waited for a taxi, still simmering in his bile. The man's lewd, drowsy gaze scanning Ran continued to gnaw at his brain, and tempting became the thought of destroying a wooden chair with the degenerate officer's bald head.

A black taxi cab hurriedly pulled over and parked right before him. Shinichi turned to Ran, finding to his alarm that she wasn't beside him. So intensely and extensively had he brooded, he'd actually forgotten to look after her.

For a frantic moment he glanced about, only to feel his heart soar and immediately plummet upon finding her. A homeless man had pulled her to his side, and she listened to him blabber indefinitely.

"Do you know how much it is? It now costs twenty hundred Yen. I sold it to him back in February of '77 'cause it was a mighty good deal, at least he told me that, and then I found out about the price hike." The waves of pungent cumin which emanated from the sunburned man's clothes were dizzying. "So I tells him, a year ago, I tells him. 'You gotta give me my money back,' and he says, 'I ain't givin' you nothin' 'cause I don't owe you nothin',' so I says, I says the truth, I says, 'You're a-lyin' to me, mister.' But he still's gotta give me my money. And commission!"

With urgency, Shinichi freed Ran from the man, who now yelled at the entire street.

"'CAUSE I GOTTA PAY MY MORTGAGE! MY MORTGAGE!" His screams suddenly halted. "WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT? YOU. OVER THERE. YOU!"

Shinichi opened the door and urged Ran inside, following after her. The vagabond suddenly fell silent, inducing the detective to glance over his shoulder, intrigued to see what had changed. Two ladies of the night pranced in the bright daylight, their gaunt torsos and leather skirts temporarily diminishing the destitute man's indignation. Away from the street and towards the conductor did Shinichi morosely turn his attention.

"Good afternoon—"

"Good afternoon to you, sir," the driver responded personably, as if he seldom received the greeting. "Tough day for some, it seems, though."

That had brought a smile from the detective. "I'd say," Shinichi replied with a helpless grin. "We're going to the second district of Beika, block twenty-one. About… seven blocks from Teitan High School? Towards the south."

The middle-aged man consented and joined the traffic. Shinichi reclined on his seat, sighing exhaustedly. Though an unusual method of transportation, the taxi was the most appropriate in their situation, considering the multitudes in the trains and buses and how Ran would easily become stressed in such environment. Taking into account his lack of energy, they'd make Shinichi uncomfortable as well. The wonders a private cab could do.

The young lady beside him sat hunched, trying to warm herself as she looked out the window. Cars flashed by, the massive entrances of skyscrapers passed, and people were left behind with their hair swirling in the cool breeze. Her eyes seemed lost for an extended while, before she blinked and turned her back to the window, as if determined not to watch anymore. She met his gaze instead and Shinichi felt himself stiffen.

_W-why_, he wondered, perplexed. _Why am I nervous?_

Her expression grew softer and lighter, the heaviness accumulated from the world rushing outside now gone. Her lips granted him a small smile, and she leaned back on her seat, her shoulder pressed against his to extract his heat. He let her do so.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own anything. That's quite literal._

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><p>CHAPTER THREE<p>

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><p>"This is my home."<p>

They stepped into the vestibule. An expansive recess extended before them, leading to massive, dark wood stairs. A hallway formed on their left, leading to the living room, and a hallway branched towards the right, leading to the second living room.

Shinichi looked at the young lady beside him, feeling his muscles light and his face warm and his insides strangely enthusiastic. He hadn't willingly admitted a visitor since his elementary school days.

The girl watched the room, not awed like the occasional friend of his parents or the visiting relative. She observed her surroundings in their entirety, almost meticulously, with silent attention and curiosity. She was learning.

Soon enough, her gaze blankly returned to him.

Shinichi blinked, speechless. Was she expectant? Unimpressed? Indifferent? Eternal years of pathetically toady visitors had accustomed him to words of surprise, giddy babbling, adulations. With dismay, Kudou Shinichi realized how much he'd forgotten natural behavior and honest reactions. "This is my—my home…" There was no response to the word Home. "You're welcome to… um…" No effusive nods and smiles, no grateful acceptance.

"I live here," he tried again, finding her lack of reaction a reason for concern. "It's my house."

Ran's eyes widened then, and she looked around with a different expression, smiling amiably when she watched him again.

"House?"

She knew that word.

"Yup. Imeanyes. Yes." He grinned nervously. _Keep it simple, Kudou, don't get her lost._ "Let me show you the place."

Preparing to reveal his secret lair, the young man first removed his shoes, placing them in a cabinet and kicking his feet into a pair of slippers. He turned, realizing Ran observed the essential procedure while remaining completely inert. She stood cluelessly.

"Umm…" Shinichi hesitated, before touching her shoulders and lowering her to the ground, making her sit upon a step. It separated the house with its hardwood floors from the vestibule with its tiles and dirty street shoes. "I, ah… okay." The adolescent huffed, with embarrassment more than anything, and leaned towards Ran's foot. The tennis shoe slid off smoothly and revealed a foot slim and small with short, little toes which looked remarkably feminine to him.

He lifted the shoe to her eye-level. "Shoe," he articulated and pointed inside his home. "In the house." He shook his head and frowned. "Shoe outside…" he added, pointing outside while nodding and smiling.

Ran observed him closely.

"Shoe inside: No." He frowned and shook his head negatively. "Shoe outside: Okay, yes." He nodded, pointing out the door as he smiled.

The girl parted her lips for a moment, immersed in thought as she watched him, before she slowly nodded and smiled gently. "Okay."

Kudou Shinichi almost dropped the tennis shoe.

_She hasn't made any implicit social mannerisms; none that I can recall. She's never nodded at me before. Yet in a few seconds, she comprehended the meaning of nodding and shaking one's head through a simple demonstration. She also used the word Okay—a complex word with multiple meanings. I never should've used it. Yet she understood. And applied it correctly._

The young man gulped. "Understood? Shoes outside yes, shoes inside no. Understood?" Shinichi repeated with a patient smile, depositing the shoe inside the cabinet.

"Under… yes."

He grinned.

"Now the other one…"

* * *

><p>The shoe-disposing business went well, and so did the tour around the house. Shinichi didn't find much purpose in demonstrating the gargantuan and numerous rooms in the mansion, containing elaborate tables from Indonesia, ornate dolls from Thailand, masks from both Eastern Africa and Central America, as well as Berber blades from Northern Africa. The adolescent had never taken pride in these objects—souvenirs as his mother liked to call them—yet had he wished to flaunt his prosperity, it wouldn't have worked on Ran.<p>

She'd walked beside him, latching onto his arm while being led, her expression one expected from someone surveying a new apartment in Mars. Remarkably, the greatest astonishment appeared in her eyes whenever she looked at the floor, the wooden boards creaking beneath their feet. She watched everything as if it were wholly foreign. Observing her reactions had been a surprisingly enjoyable experience.

The wardrobe and undressing business provided _huge_ complications for them, however. Shinichi didn't have a sister who could spare clothing for Ran; there only existed abandoned clothing from the late eighties and early nineties that belonged to his mother. Not a conflict emerged from finding something for the girl to wear—plenty of shirts and high-rise jeans, and because Ran was thin all was good—yet the enormously monstrous problem (at least for him) lay in the underwear.

Firstly, he had to guide Ran in choosing underwear for herself.

Secondly, the selection was his _mother's_.

Thirdly, he had to explain how to put it on. In understandable language.

Fourthly, he could not put the underwear on her _himself_.

The process took approximately an hour, probably longer. He had Ran rummage through the drawer—he refused to lay a finger—and very embarrassingly attempted to play charades with the clothing, showing her how to hypothetically don it, yet with underwear fluttering in the air and supposedly hugging a person's frame, the message frequently became lost. He wished for a mannequin… and simultaneously didn't. Dressing a naked, human-sized female doll with his mother's underwear lay the groundwork for months of nightmares.

After the heartache that produced such tutorial (which was clearly leading nowhere), he realized it would be even more terrifying for Ran to use underwear someone else had previously worn. Even if it hadn't touched anybody for years. Even if it belonged to his mother.

Actually, _especially_ if it had been worn by his mother.

Desperate, he called the only girl he knew regarding his predicament.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Haibara, it's me, I've got a huge problem." He watched Ran before him. She was observing herself in a mirror, studying her own reflection inquisitively.

"What is it this time? I'm in the middle of something." she replied nonchalantly, a magazine's glossy page flipping in the background.

"It's not like any time. I have—"

"Hold on." There was a pause. "You're calling from your house? Instead of just walking over here? You're gonna gain a lot of weight at this rate, Kudou-kun."

"These are very unusual circumstances."

"The _indolence_ of today's youth… is nearly terrifying."

"I have a girl who's staying with me."

Silence plagued their phone call. He could imagine her lifting an eyebrow. Shinichi and "a girl" had never met in a sentence. "You have a what?"

"There's a girl who was found in the street by the police in the early morning and she was at the station today. It's a very long story, but anyway, she doesn't have any clothes—"

"I didn't need to know that much, Kudou-kun."

He blushed furiously. "No! I mean, she doesn't—she HAS clothes, she just doesn't have spare ones. I already got some from my mother, but I was calling because, well… she needs underwear, naturally, and I didn't think it appropriate for her to use my mother's. She should have new stuff. Right?"

"Sounds decent."

"What I'm asking is…"

"You'd like to know where to get it," she stated bluntly.

"I… yes."

"Are you acquainted with department stores, Kudou-kun?"

"I—yes, but I wanted something good for her. Is a department store any good? They don't sell good T-shirts, that's for sure."

Miyano Shiho chuckled on the other end, did so with great honesty, in a manner that shocked him._ Haibara is really going mad now…_ Her voice returned shortly. "Wow. I didn't know you had this side to you, Kudou-kun, but I suppose it's real."

"What side?" he grunted. He was growing annoyed by now.

"Meeting a girl, bringing her home the same afternoon, wanting to buy her lingerie right away. It's interesting, that's for sure."

His face reddened dangerously. "NO!"

Ran recoiled and turned to glance at him, heating him up even more.

"How passionate of you," Haibara muttered sardonically.

"NOT LINGE—"

"GOD, stop screaming in my ear. I get that you're flustered already. Look, Kudou-kun, let me enlighten you. Nice underwear equals lingerie. Lingerie is just finely made underwear, often embroidered, often sewed by hand, and it isn't necessarily provocative. It's sad I have to tell you this; you're an eighteen year-old man already."

He grunted.

"And a clearly deprived one. Anyhow, the best are at Downtown Tokyo—Harajuku particularly. You want something more accessible and quicker, go to the fifth district here in Beika down to seventeenth street. There are small boutiques there with fine products."

"I…" The high school detective gulped. "I can't go buy it and leave her at home alone."

"Why would you leave her behind? She's the one who's supposed to try on the clothes, not you. Unless you were hoping to cross-dress and that would be a whole different story."

"She can't come with me. I don't think she'll take the masses very well. She's…" He couldn't explain Ran easily, and thus opted to use a flimsy excuse. "Under emotional stress and should remain in a calm environment."

There was silence on the other end.

_Did she hang up?_

"So what are you saying?"

He fidgeted. "I'm saying I'm wondering if you can possibly pick up a pair of underwear for me. I mean, not for me, for her, obviously," he stammered.

After a long pause, she grunted on the other end.

"Please, Haibara. I can't leave her and I can't bring her along."

"What type of emotional disturbance does she have that prevents her from being in the street, anyway? And what caused it?"

Shinichi frowned at the questions. They befuddled him as well. "I don't know yet…"

The image of Ran curled in an alley, wearing only a long-sleeve shirt while sitting on the grime and gravel, was depicted by his mind. It had rained last night, when she'd been found. There had been mud and puddles, and an unusual cold front. "Will you do this for me?" he beseeched the scientist, the thin long shirt (still on Ran, he could see it slip past the jacket) and crystallized mud constricting his throat.

He was surprised by what he heard. "What size is she?"

Kudou Shinichi exhaled his tension and grinned triumphantly, an indescribable tranquility relaxing his posture, before he processed Haibara's question. It made him flush and stammer. "I—w-what…"

"Tell me what size she is so I can get her something. I need both the chest and waist sizes." She was becoming vexed. "You do want me to buy the clothes, don't you?"

"Y-yes! I do…" he mumbled, a tomato now.

"Then go ask her and come tell me already. I'll wait here."

He rested the telephone on the king-sized bed, which belonged to his parents, and walked towards Ran. She detected him in the mirror and turned. Though her eyes possessed nearly childish inquisitiveness, her gaze remained deep—the profundity of her expression became the only factor to reveal her true age. Seventeen. Eighteen at most.

Kudou Shinichi remembered the task at hand. "Do—do you know your chest and waist circumfe—ferences?" he stammered, his face on fire. _Not a chance_, a voice arrogantly muttered in his brain.

Ran watched him, blinking repeatedly, and was very evidently oblivious to the significance of his question.

Shinichi nervously smiled, shaking his hand. "It's okay, don't worry about it." He roamed through the bedroom, searching for measuring tape. After a few moments of jittery fumbling, his fingers discovered the tool within a sewing box and while unrolling it, he gulped and heated up again. Her gaze followed him and the attention intensified his embarrassment. "I'm gonna measure you. If you don't mind." The teenager stood right before her, the band of successive lines and numbers stretching from hand to hand. "Hold your arms out, like this."

He raised her arms perpendicular to her body, transforming her into a human T.

"Hold them like that. Hold them. Now breathe in." He sucked in a breath exaggeratedly. Eventually he exhaled. "Breathe in." And sucked another breath.

Ran mimicked the action, though the air immediately escaped through her nose.

"No, no. Here, hold your nose, hold it. Like this." His fingers led her to pinch her nose. "Now breathe in." He gasped a lungful of air. She emulated him, shutting her mouth full of air.

Her chest had expanded. Shinichi used the opportunity to wrap the tape around her—right over the area with the greatest circumference—and did so swiftly in order to prevent self-awareness. He marked the number which completed the loop and unwrapped the tape around her, gently lowering her arms and removing her hand from her nose with a grateful smile. "Thank you." Ran exhaled the puff of oxygen and carbon dioxide.

Quickly, he lifted her sweatshirt and measured the small of her waist as well.

Shinichi returned to the phone. "Thirty-five inches in the chest area. Twenty-six on the waist."

Haibara spoke up, her voice impressed. "Who do you have in there?"

The detective blinked, a faint rosiness tainting his cheeks. "Why? Is that unusual?"

"For a girl that slim, yes. Her bust measurement includes the cup, I presume."

"Cup?"

Haibara snorted. "The breasts, Kudou-kun. The place they're supported in—the cup."

"I measured everything, so I guess, yeah."

"Measured, huh." The woman, slightly older than himself, sounded suspiciously amused. "So if it's thirty-five in total, I presume the bra size should be about… does she have a wide back?"

"Huh? I don't know. I don't think so. She's small."

"Hm… let's say… thirty… two… C? Maybe D."

"You're on your own. I don't understand a word you're saying."

"Too bad for you, Kudou-kun. Had you had a girlfriend, you'd know. I guess you're considerably closer to investigating these matters now."

Shinichi frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I gotta go. I'm running late for your errand." And she hung up.

During the hours Haibara spent shopping, he and Ran trifled the time by surveying his room. The girl leaned over his prized table, where he studied frequently, and inspected his homework sheets. Shinichi noticed she couldn't read them, though she nonetheless carefully observed the characters, trailing her finger down the markings with great interest. She surveyed his books, all stacked neatly on a nailed shelf, and fumbled with their binding as well; her continuous fascination led him to read aloud some passages, which she listened to intently.

Ran was very curious, in a studious rather than snoopy manner. She'd glanced at his television from the corner of her eye, finding it dubious, before approaching his window and balcony. He opened the glass doors for her to enjoy the view and that had amused him, as a cool, strong and fresh gust made her squeal and hug herself, made her grin back at him.

The nineteen year-old scientist returned about an hour and a half after he'd called. Shinichi greeted her at the iron entrance. "Thank you, Haibara! You've done a great favor for me. I'll be sure to pay you back, I just don't have cash on me right now."

"I don't want remuneration." She slowly crossed her arms over her chest. "I want to see her."

Kudou Shinichi didn't think it a good idea. Haibara had a very sharp, sarcastic and aloof personality appropriate for late-hour conversations amongst people older than forty. He doubted it would be beneficial for Ran; the girl was a world away. "She—she's got emotional problems going on. I don't want her to get riled up."

"All the more reason, I have more medical knowledge than you do." She deadpanned.

"Not on psychology."

"You're hiding her from me."

"No, I'm not…"

"You're hiding her from this city, keeping her locked up in your house indefinitely. God knows what you're doing to her in there."

"What does that mean?" The young man looked flustered.

"I'd like to meet her. I _will_ see her. Especially if you have to measure her yourself because she can't tell you the size of her bra. You told her eighty times how to breathe. There's something medically noteworthy occurring in there and I want to see it. I shall." She warned with a forefinger, one eyebrow lifted forebodingly as she walked to Agasa's home. Suddenly, the young woman turned. "Oh, and don't forget to wash those before she wears them." She marched away.

Both teenagers permitted time to trickle through their hands again, as they waited for the clothes to wash and dry. They were very high quality underwear (at least Shinichi thought so): two vanilla cups with vanilla-colored embroidery with matching panties, though the latter seemed more heavily embroidered and a little more see-through. Shinichi blushed and prohibited himself from staring very long. He felt like a pervert gaping at the underclothes that belonged to a girl.

Hours were spent explaining to Ran (without undressing her) that she—right after he closed the bathroom door and thus in the future, but in the immediate future—had to undress, turn on the shower, step inside the bathtub, scrub herself with soap, rinse, and dry herself with a clean towel. The directions were made impossible since he couldn't demonstrate the task by using himself as an example. He couldn't be in the nude, and even if he bathed while wearing a bathing suit or some underwear, she'd think she had to bathe with her underwear on. Miming was the only option left.

To complicate matters further, he was obliged to include even more instructions on how to proceed after the bath: she had to put on her new underwear. Properly. It was a lesson they had to repeat, since it had failed horribly.

This time, however, (while cursing the fact he could've requested Haibara to dress Ran herself and made this so much simpler) he actually clipped on the bra and slid the panties over Ran's clothing during his lesson to make matters easier.

It had looked strange, though it illustrated his message more clearly. He just had to instruct her not to don the underwear over her clothes, but underneath them once she'd bathed.

After long minutes of hot water and steam, the bathroom door gently opened, eliciting a gulp from Shinichi's throat. He warily glanced at the doorway, only to witness with much satisfaction that the concept had gotten through. Her pajamas were on, and a quick and respectful slide of her shirt revealed her bra strap, indicating her success.

He'd grinned with pride and she'd smiled, truly and jovially.

Kudou Shinichi, high school and extremely exhausted detective, had showered and now sat upon his preferred armchair in the spacious lower-level study, feeling warm and malleable like boiled spaghetti. The day had darkened swiftly and Ran had fallen asleep shortly after her bath. He'd put her to bed in the guest room next to his bedroom.

The young man reclined on the armchair now, nodding off as a soft yellow reading light warmed his cheek. He wondered where Ran came from and what happened to her. Had she been born like this?

_It's impossible_, his mind immediately countered. If she'd been born with a cognitive-impairing condition, she wouldn't learn so swiftly. Ran was intelligent. She was capable of acquiring new words and concepts quickly. Yet for a girl so capable of learning, she was too ignorant of language and of socially established norms. Where had she spent these last seventeen or eighteen years of her life? Trapped in a cellar?

_Any way you look at it, Ran displays no mental retardation of any sort; on the contrary, she learns quickly. This conclusion comes in sharp contrast with the statement from that Komatsu employee who came searching for Ran earlier, who claimed she was mentally challenged. From the little I've seen, I can already argue the opposite._

_Why did he say that about her? Who was that man and how did he know Ran? How did he know she lacked linguistic knowledge and how did he know her exact wardrobe? Maybe he knew her personally?_

_But the police officers, including Megure, didn't present the man as a relative or acquaintance of Ran. "A man named Mitsune Ryuuichi," had said the cop. "Says he's from the Komatsu Corporation." That's what he said? Not "I'm her brother, father, cousin, friend, boyfriend, neighbor, or whatever" but, "I'm from the Komatsu Corporation"? How is that even relevant?_

_But it is…_ a voice in his brain argued, lowly and perceptively.

_Ran is terrified of Komatsu Corporation. _

_Komatsu is very much relevant to this case._

Shinichi frowned in his subconscious woolgathering.

_She never mentioned the guy who came looking for her—a Mitsune Ryuuichi._

_She denounced a "Matsura-sensei."_

_Matsura and Mitsune… could Ran have fuddled the two?_

Shinichi nodded off more than once. He achieved a total of two hours of chair-sleep prior to standing and drinking some milk to mildly nourish himself, before he dragged his feet to bed. Once in his bedroom, the young man tossed off his shirt and rolled down his pants, wearing solely his underwear as he crawled into bed. He was knocked out upon hitting the pillow.

* * *

><p>A glass-shattering scream.<p>

Shinichi scrambled from bed and raced out of his room, striding down the hallway and flinging open the guest room door.

Ran sat on her bed, curled as she had in his imagination. She wore a long-sleeve shirt—her pajamas—and slowly rocked herself, to and fro, as an infant would.

With dubitation, he approached the girl and slowly sat before her, noticing the tears staining her cheeks. He grasped her shoulder, and soon began to pat her back, yet it wasn't long before his arms wound around her and embraced her supportively. Ran's legs extended by his sides, bent at the knees. The position of her arms suddenly caught his attention. Her hands were raised to the sides of her head, and were pulling her hair in distress; immediately did Shinichi ease their grip and take them away, embracing her firmly thereafter. Onto his shoulder she sobbed for a long time, until her cries eventually dissolved into somnolent hiccups. He guided her to his room, and had her sleep by his side. She didn't cry again that night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**_ I own a single thing, actually. Sue me for it and see what happens._

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><p>CHAPTER FOUR<p>

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><p>A chiming bell startled him.<p>

Kudou Shinichi somnolently gazed at the ceiling, rubbing his eyes shut as he sighed. It felt exceptionally hot. Looking down at himself, he discovered a sheet over his bare chest and a pale arm traversing it as well.

His vision blurred and darkened as he shut his eyes and leaned back against his pillow, a dream's setting and its people slowly returning, before his eyes suddenly reopened. He furrowed his brow and did a double-take.

A girl he'd come to know as Ran profoundly dreamt beside him, slowly breathing into his neck, looking unperturbed. Her brown hair shimmered and undulated in all directions, wildly so. Between one dream and the other, a nearly imperceptible crease tensed her brow and she groaned; her arm extended and curled more firmly around him; she nestled into his shoulder and her leg wrapped around his; her breaths slowly deepened. She was now profoundly asleep.

Shinichi swallowed before reclining back onto his pillow, feeling his face warm up as conflicting ideas emerged in his mind.

Ran and him were well into their adolescence—perhaps into an unfledged adulthood. Yet despite her age, she displayed a very genuine trust in him. Why?

It was all beyond Kudou Shinichi's comprehension; her behavior awed and captivated and horrified him. She was offering him a beautifully rare and terribly dangerous amount of trust. An amount girls would never grant guys so blindly, so openly, not to mention beautiful girls like her—their trust in others (men, namely) would usually and rightfully hover around nil.

_Wait… _his brain commanded, suddenly alert and wary. _Go back…_

Kudou Shinichi quickly retraced his thoughts.

And soon enough, his brain shut down.

Only after a few moments, characterized by thoughtlessness and immobility, did a slow reboot begin. His face flushed and his heart commenced an unpredictable race.

_B-beautiful…?_

His mind was stammering. Rarely did he stammer. Not even mentally.

_Do I think of her as beautiful?_

His eyes, with a mind of their own, immediately fell to Ran's face.

_She is_, a deeper voice insisted.

_My…_

_She is_, the voice repeated.

_Her personality and mind are distorting my perception._ _She's not constantly angry or frustrated over nothing, she's not an airhead, her eyes don't look like she's on dope, she's not judgmental_…_ she's not arrogant_…_ or envious_…_ or cunning_…_ or superficial. Definitely not superficial. She's honest and clearly good-natured, and her eyes are always awake. And when she smiles her eyes also smile. She's inquisitive. She does more listening than speaking. If her personality were different, I wouldn't find her attractive._

There was a pause.

_So she_ is _beautiful._ The profound version of his voice, a cheekier version, almost laughed the words out.

_Yes. Yes, she is._

The bell rang through the house again.

Slowly did Kudou Shinichi unwind his arm from Ran's back, rising drowsily and watching dumbly as the girl's hand slid down his chest along with the sheets, both settling upon his lap. With a remarkable blush, he took her hand and intended to place it near her face, only to find her awake upon turning. Ran's expressiveness caught him off-guard.

Gradually did her gaze turn to the window, the sun falling into her eyes brightly. "Sunlight," she whispered with a smile, nostalgic almost.

The bell made Shinichi recoil; it made Ran's expression vanish and it interrupted his speechlessness. He stood, slamming his legs into a pair of pants both grumpily and hastily, before snatching a polo and donning it carelessly. Ran's continuous scrutiny made him realize how greatly exposed he'd been—boxers only—and her warm, oblivious and curious attention embarrassed him.

"I'll be right back," the young man muttered to break the silence. "Stay here."

"Stay here," she muttered groggily, smiling at him all the while.

Kudou Shinichi dipped his head as he exited the bedroom, reddened from head to toe. Immediately did he dash across the corridor and down the wide steps, into the foyer and then to the vestibule. He unlocked the door to greet his visitor, only to find a strange man in a dark suit by the iron gate. Shinichi approached him; the suit had the color of a fallen leaf.

"Good morning, I'm sorry to bother you early. I've been informed you are Kudou Shinichi-san?"

The man's tone emerged charmingly and politely. Despite the man's attempts, his eyes remained stressed and irreparably antagonistic.

"Who are you?" Shinichi inquired.

"I'm Mitsune Ryuuichi, a microbiologist. I have been searching for my little sister, who's disappeared for a day and a half. I was informed by the Metropolitan Police Department that she was in their headquarters all day yesterday, though she disappeared at around four forty-five—around the time the police told me I could pick her up. I asked who had been the last officer to have contact with her and they referred me to you. Do you know what's happened to her?"

"Mitsune Ryuuichi-san, yes. I'd been informed of your arrival at the station." Shinichi pretended to possess a slower, more calculated speech. "You said you worked at…" While wearing a furrowed brow, he also feigned to have a disarrayed mind. Bought time was of the essence. "Was it Komatsu Corporation?"

"Komatsu Biological Research Services. _Incorporated_. Yes," he answered irritably. The word Corporation seemed to be his pet-peeve.

"My deepest apologies about your sister. The police are leading a thorough investigation. She was in the same room with the police inspector and me; we were discussing her dismissal papers before she ran away."

Mitsune outright scowled. "Ran away? How could she have run away?"

"She became highly distressed upon hearing of your arrival, Mitsune-san. In her unusual state of mind, she could've easily run away."

"How could she have escaped from a police department?"

"She was dressed in a police uniform instead of civilian clothes. She was given the clothes since she was found wearing nothing but an oversized shirt, which isn't appropriate for a young lady her age." Kudou Shinichi's gaze darkened murderously; he couldn't help it. "You said you're her brother. What was she doing in the street in the middle of the night? Alone?"

The man suddenly grew unsettled. "She's got a mental… a mental, ah…" Shinichi's perceptive stare didn't allow him to think. He glanced away. "What's it called—disability. She's mentally handicapped."

"All the more outrageous. What was a girl with a physical impairment doing alone in the middle of the night?"

"She's got problems! She ran away on her own, and I'm telling you the truth." Mitsune Ryuuichi observed Shinichi solemnly.

"Hm." The detective pensively withdrew a notepad from his pants, and scribbled a note upon it. "So what was happening at home that made her run away?"

Shinichi noticed he'd roused up the little man in his red leaf suit all over again. "I told you, she's got medical problems. She's mentally challenged. She does things spontaneously. She's reckless."

"That's strange—she seemed rather calm, focused, and most particularly _intelligent_ when I interviewed her." The detective observed the man's movements sharply, noticing him grow undeniably anxious.

"Look, Kudou-san, I just wish to find my sister. I want to know where she is, where she's gone. Are you informed of her whereabouts?" Mitsune's gaze grew firmer, as Shinichi observed him thoughtfully. He responded only after carefully considering the ideas crossing his mind.

"May I see your identification before we go on, please? And your sister's, if you have it on you."

Mitsune Ryuuichi looked thunderstruck. "Why do you need that?"

Shinichi's eyebrow rose. "To verify your identity. And your sister's. I have to check if you're an impostor or not."

"I…" The man flushed. "Of course. Of course," he suddenly mumbled as he quiveringly extended his identification. He frowned while Shinichi inspected the card. "So you work after-hours. Must be a bummer."

Kudou Shinichi failed to lift his gaze. Mitsune attempted to conceal his scowl.

_Seconds ago you were demanding me to work off-hours in order to catch Ran. When I ask for your I.D., I suddenly can't work overtime?_

"Detectives don't clock out." He replied vaguely, motioning for further evidence. "Have you got your sister's I.D.?"

"I… no, but I've got a picture of her though. That way you know we're talking about the same, uh…" He was delving into his pocket. "Same girl."

Shinichi accepted the photograph which displayed merely a face, and for some reason, it stunned him. It was Ran all right—the same nose and lips, and the same hair color. Her eyes were closed as she dreamt, her head tilted.

There was something amiss, however.

Only the collar of her shirt appeared in the picture. It was white. It was the same she'd worn yesterday.

Ran's expression, the one found in the picture, didn't resemble the one he observed this morning. Shinichi had woken to her sighing soundly and sprawling beside him, her mien calm, her eyelids and eyebrows smoothly relaxed. In the glossy shot, she lay rigidly on her back, and barely seen was the tension of her facial muscles; the detail was small, negligible, though it was there.

Blurry and dim hues covered the background.

Shinichi frowned. "Do you have any documentation of her? Birth certificate, passport, license?"

"No, I don't. I don't carry around her documents." The man's mandible tensed. His jugular was throbbing.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't do anything for you. If you want to claim you're her brother, you need government-issued documentation." The adolescent returned the glistening card.

"But I'm telling you I'm her brother. I've got this picture!"

"What I'm asking for is standard protocol and we do not make exceptions. I cannot divulge any information about this case without evidence indicating you're a relative of the victim. You'd be surprised by the number of creeps who make up an alias, falsify a relationship and attempt to kidnap victims from the police department," Shinichi stated brazenly, mentally smirking at the sickly pallor which consumed his listener's face.

"This wasn't a problem when I was at the police station. They allowed me to pick her up."

"I don't know how that was possible, because that's against the law."

Silence elongated its limbs, stretched itself thin, to the tense point of breaking.

The man's eyes, beneath the small glasses, watched him intently and fiercely. "Tell me, meitantei Kudou Shinichi-san. You were one of the last people to be in contact with her—"

"Who is 'her,' by the way? She never identified herself. What is her name?"

Mitsune Ryuuichi halted. "What—her name?" Shinichi nodded patiently. "Her name is, ah… is Y-Yayoi."

One of the detective's eyebrows rose of its own accord. "Yayoi? So her name is Mitsune Yayoi, I presume."

"Yeah." The man in the suit observed the famous detective write on the notepad, observed his dry and stoic expression. Kudou Shinichi's impassivity ironically conveyed his feelings of resentment. It conveyed Kudou Shinichi was angry.

The microbiologist relaxed then; enough to think sharply. "You were the last person to see her. Do you have any idea where she is?"

Shinichi raised his gaze—no longer sharp or infuriated, not even calculating. It remained on Mitsune's face apathetically, with indifference and near boredom. "Be sure that we're making a deep investigation," he replied, aware the man from Komatsu had already caught on to him.

The man in the fallen-leaf suit slid his wallet into his back pocket, slowly nodding, as if understanding. "I'll bring some I.D. as soon as I can," he said with an astute gaze before hurrying away.

* * *

><p>Attracted to the wealth of sunshine, Ran stood before the windows of Shinichi's bedroom. Beneath the blinding warmth, she felt lighter and more revitalized.<p>

Her companion stood at the iron gate, speaking to a man excessively dressed. Ran watched the latter for some moments, her expression thoughtful and rather dispassionate, before she grew distracted by her caregiver's appearance. She watched the oak tree right outside the window, its wide trunk carved and chipped with age, the leaves emerald—glistening gold where the sun touched them. The tree and the breeze and the sun called out to her.

* * *

><p>Three hours later and with a starvation comparable to his days as a fourteen year-old, Kudou Shinichi attempted to create a decent meal from the scarcity of his refrigerator.<p>

"Hakase," the young man spoke into the phone again, watching the hissing ground beef as it cooked and a sealed pack of rice, finding them insufficient. "What should I do? I only have some ground meat and rice. What do I do with the meat? Meatballs? And isn't rice too bland?"

Agasa Hiroshi spoke with surprise. "You really do seem worked up about this girl, Shinichi-kun. As Ai-kun said. Have we got a girlfriend now?" He was teasing, though the old man sounded genuinely pleased.

Shinichi glared at the phone. "It's not like that at all! Having a guest who happens to be female doesn't entail a relationship. And before you say anything, it's irrelevant that I've never had a girl in the house or that no one's ever slept over or…" He was digging his own grave. He stammered blushingly. "Anyway, that's not even the point. I need to make lunch and I don't have anything."

Agasa followed his conversation wisely. "You have just enough. What you said, meatballs sounded fine. It sounds like you're already cooking though, and if you want meatballs, I suggest you get that meat off the stove. The meat needs to be raw for you to transform it into a meatball."

"Damn."

"You can cook them with Italian sauce and spaghetti, or rice, if you've got some. I think we do, so you can borrow a package if you need one. You gotta have something like a salad too, though, just in case she prefers that. Young ladies like that."

"Do they?" Shinichi wondered curiously, and he felt the professor grin.

"Yes, of course. You can come over and pick out what you need. I'm sure we've got some lettuce, tomatoes and some onions in here—

"I'll bring them over," stated the voice of Haibara Ai, cutting into the conversation.

"No, wait, I'll go there myself. Haiba—!" Click.

Shinichi groaned irritably, setting the receiver on the counter. He turned to the stove when a whiff of burned meat passed his nose, and scratched at the pan with frustration. For minutes he scraped off meat transformed into charcoal.

Upon detecting Haibara's silhouette marching past the gate, he raced out of the kitchen. He passed Ran, who sat at the couch, and left her in peace. From the vestibule, only the back of the sofa remained visible and she remained unseen.

Shinichi opened and shut the door behind, frowning knowingly at the young woman who had reached the gate's entrance and now attempted to open it. She held the bag with vegetables.

"Thanks for bringing these over, Haibara, there was no need." He smirked sarcastically as he opened the gate, reaching for the cloth bag.

Miyano Shiho retrieved and maintained it out of his reach, watching him challengingly. "I intend on making this salad myself. Your culinary expertise is questionable."

Shinichi glared. "Trust me, I already have to cook the meat and the spaghetti. Handling some raw vegetables isn't the hardest part of it all."

He stretched his arm to the bag; Haibara retrieved it farther. "I'll prepare it all then. I want to know who this unusual girl is. Let me meet her."

"She's not unusual. There's nothing unusual about her." Despite his detective abilities, he couldn't prevent his eyes from straying, revealing he lied.

Haibara folded her arms, the bag rocking as it hung from her wrist. "She doesn't know the size of her own body, she doesn't reply normally, she doesn't comprehend the concept of holding one's breath unless it is explained to her, and she evidently can't help you cook. Either she is a horrendously ignorant and impolite person, or she's got a medical condition. Either way, I'm entitled to meet her."

"Entitled?" Shinichi watched her incredulously.

"I bought her underwear, which you failed to do. It also seems there are medical issues involved, possibly neglected medical issues. Subsequently, as her provider of underwear and a medically-knowledgeable scientist, I am in fact entitled to meet her."

She extended the bag towards him; her expression could've been encountered at a funeral home. "You will allow me to meet her?"

Shinichi frowned, observing her seriously. "For medical purposes?"

"I wish to know what characterizes her psychologically and physically. Through what I've heard from the professor, she's not the most normal girl you can find in an alley. Even you don't know what's occurred to her. A thorough analysis can help you. And her."

The bag was in his hands. Shinichi's fingers curled firmly around its handle as he pondered the matter.

"Tomorrow morning, can you do it then? I'll have to go to school. I don't want a teacher stopping by to see what's keeping me away from class. You can stay with Ran in the morning, while I'm away. I don't want her to be alone."

He neglected to apply the honorific in Haibara's presence, and she noticed the familiarity. She perceived the preoccupation he felt for the girl inside that house. A small smile faintly moved her lips, only faintly. Kudou Shinichi, it seemed, would always challenge her cynicism.

"Tomorrow morning, eight o'clock. I'll be here with her until you come back."

"You can't take her out to the street though."

"We'll stay at home. Bake cookies while you're out." She grinned good-humoredly as he grumbled. "Kudou-kun, don't worry about it."

* * *

><p>The eighteen year-old successfully separated the raw meat from the bits of carbon encrusted in the pan, soaked the metal foamy clean, and combined a prepared mixture with the ground beef. After rolling these into numerous meatballs, he raised the metal pan from the sink and positioned it upon the stove with a clang.<p>

Metal.

The peculiar grayness of the pan detained him. He remembered the picture, Ran's picture.

That gray background.

Metal.

With an absent mind and thus incompetently, Shinichi moved to the kitchen counter behind him, where the produce awaited him. He retrieved the ingredients, washed them, and tore lettuce leaves into a sturdy porcelain bowl. Distantly, he heard steps approaching him.

Ran snuck into the kitchen. Her smile was small and true, nearly playful. It raised his spirits immensely.

"I'm preparing lunch."

"Lunch?" she muttered softly, apparently acquainted with the word. The girl approached him, her gaze growing curious as she attempted to peek at the bowl. "Coffee grains? Water?"

"Um… well, it's more than that…" Shinichi chuckled, impressed and perplexed by the sudden vocabulary emerging from her lips. He tilted the porcelain bowl repleted with shredded lettuce leaves, allowing her to see it. "Salad. Do you like salads?"

Ran's smile vanished. As if she'd seen a ghost, she goggled at the bowl in pure and utter horror, and so suddenly did she recoil, she accidentally pounded her back against the refrigerator. The expression of white and wide-eyed terror on her small face became so engraved in Kudou Shinichi's mind, he was sure it would forever torture him.

She had shrieked piercingly, the way one would while witnessing an execution, and curled her way to the floor in sobs. He'd shaken her from her shock, petted her hair, rubbed her back, and whispered into her ear; he'd behaved impulsively and desperately.

Both swayed, back and forward, as she sobbed with panic and clung onto his shirt.

In his mind, Shinichi lambasted the damn salad.

He never laid a finger on a single vegetable ever again.


	5. Chapter 5

_This marks the end of this story's first segment._

**Disclaimer:**_ It is a short novel, the single object I own. Call me a nerd—I dare ya. :D_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FIVE<p>

* * *

><p>With brown hair caressing her cheek and other strands swaying occasionally in the breeze, Ran dreamt, under the warmth of the nurturing sun. The thick emerald grass brushed against her skin, shirt and jeans, and to Shinichi's relief, she looked peaceful. He'd brought her out to the backyard to distract her from that salad, which still tormented their minds, and she'd discovered happiness and solace in the garden. The girl's eyes had widened upon feeling cold grass beneath her feet; she'd smelled the trimmed turf, studied the bindweed and jasmine, explored the rosebushes, and tapped the pool water with the tip of her index finger.<p>

Her curiosity sensitized Shinichi to a garden he'd never truly noticed—he grew perceptive of the sharp and contrasting colors surrounding him, the purity of the air, the rustle of grass, and the whispering of trees. Despite his analytical and observant mind, the young man felt chagrined that he'd never noticed such trivial aspects of daily life before.

Ran had plummeted to the lawn eventually, her face lit jovially, and she enjoyed the sunshine. The sun was bright and strong, and gradually, the temperature resembled that of late spring.

She slumbered now. Content, for once. Even in her dreams.

Shinichi wondered if instead of sleeping in the confined bedrooms upstairs, they should just set up a tent and camp in the garden at night.

_Sunshine…_

It gilded her nose, and blushed her cheeks. It was one of the words she knew. She also seemed knowledgeable of Coffee and Water. Lunch. House.

_Why so few words?_ was a question that rang through his mind, searching for a response among the neural circuits. It received none.

Ran must've been exposed to these terms frequently enough to learn them, just as she learned the word Komatsu and learned of a Matsura-sensei. A relationship had to exist between these words; one which perhaps could reveal insight into what happened to Ran, what she'd been exposed to, and why Komatsu Corporation seemed so intent in getting a hold of her.

Shinichi had become assured that Mitsune Ryuuichi hadn't arrived out of brotherly care nor responsibility. The man's attitude throughout the interview, his aggression while blaming Ran for her disappearance (and never considering she may have been kidnapped or mistreated), and his refusal to inquire upon Ran's wellbeing were some of the factors in Shinichi's decision. Mitsune had also failed to produce documentation and failed to know her real name.

The adolescent had verified if Ran was acquainted with the name Mitsune Yayoi. He'd muttered the name suddenly, randomly, as he closely observed her reaction and checked for signs of surprise or recognition; Shinichi perceived none. Ran had blinked back at him, as if he'd uttered some very indecipherable gibberish.

He'd proceeded to test the name "Mitsune Ryuuichi," only to obtain similar results.

_What's a Mitsune Ryuuichi? _her gaze had blankly wondered.

Kudou Shinichi had to think very carefully about the case, because the implications of Mitsune's behavior and Ran's unknown condition were both very serious.

Something about Mitsune's comportment struck the detective; something essential. The man had presented himself as a microbiologist, and as a brother later. It was an illogical introduction. It revealed his mind was tied to his work first, and to the girl later. Komatsu first, and from Komatsu stemmed Ran.

Which signified that the only connection between Mitsune Ryuuichi and Ran was Komatsu Corporation. This was proven by the fact that Ran knew of Komatsu, but not of Mitsune, and Mitsune worked for Komatsu, but wasn't truly acquainted with Ran.

So if Mitsune Ryuuichi claimed that Ran had a mental disability, then Komatsu claimed she had a disability. If Mitsune had a photograph of Ran sleeping, then Komatsu possessed that photograph. If Mitsune failed to provide her identification, it meant Komatsu had no identity of the girl (or refused to provide it).

Why? What would a corporation be doing with a girl's personal information? Especially when the information belonged to a girl who couldn't communicate well and who was socially deprived? Were they studying her?

But why would they call her mentally challenged, when Shinichi could think of countless examples which demonstrated her otherwise perfect cognitive abilities? It made no sense. Why would they care about where she is, and search for her so aggressively?

_Does Ran know something she shouldn't? _Shinichi wondered, frowning melancholically. He'd had his share of predatory organizations last year; he could detect foul play a mile away.

So why did he perceive danger now?

The sun burned upon his cheeks and nose, and as a cool breeze rustled the grass and fluttered his hair, Shinichi felt a despondence weigh down his chest. Ran continued snoozing beside him, her face small and gentle.

_What if she's in danger? _His throat tensed, painfully.

_Do not dwell on that. Concentrate on finding out what happened. You cannot report anybody to the police or protect Ran adequately if you do not know what's occurred to her, or who exactly is after her. If it's an entire corporation, that's fine, but find out what happened first. Find out who she is._

_Find out why she ran away._

* * *

><p>His eyes heavily closed at some point, under the light and the warmth. He dreamt.<p>

He dreamt of a sleeping Ran, lying inertly on a slab.

He dreamt of her learning new words, while confined, in her slab.

He dreamt of her learning of water, and houses, and lunches. And sunshine.

He dreamt of her meeting a Matsura-sensei while in her slab.

And that, one day, she woke from her perpetual sleep.

And that she ran away from them all, while wearing nothing but a shirt.

It rained and she looked lost; she looked tired and melancholic as she sat in an alley; she knew not society until a flashlight fell upon her, blindingly.

Shinichi's eyes fluttered open, his heart throbbing anxiously as his hand touched Ran's.


	6. Chapter 6

_This will be your last opportunity to hypothesize about Ran and the pretty pickle she's in. Announce your deductions (however crazy they might be) before the next chapter is released!_

**Disclaimer**: _I cannot give the book's title... yet. It may spoil just a thing or two._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SIX<p>

* * *

><p>With his brain turned into somnolent mush, Shinichi tumbled out of bed at the tune of his beeping alarm clock. He considered defenestrating the thing before opting for the more pacifistic method of slamming it silent.<p>

Cringing, he realized he might've woken Ran, though the lax expression revealed he hadn't.

For convenience's sake—and nothing but convenience's sake—he'd relocated Ran and himself to his parents' bedroom. The more spacious bed allowed them to remain in the same room (for the prevention of any nocturnal mishaps or semiconscious screaming), yet allowed partial physical distance.

Shinichi staggered towards his bedroom and prepared for school. Within a matter of minutes distinguished by pure efficiency, Kudou Shinichi, now fully dressed in his uniform and with the taste of marmalade and toast in his mouth, stood in the lower-level bathroom and proceeded to brush his teeth. The bell stopped him.

Quick and mindful that Ran wouldn't be disturbed, Shinichi trotted to welcome Miyano Shiho into the house.

"You look nice and fresh," she commented passively, removing her shoes carefully as he rushed to the bathroom and turned on the faucet.

"No shkool yeshturday. Und no werk." The brushing could be heard from afar.

He failed to see the smirk on the young woman's face. "It's only been two days and you're already adopting a carefree life, forgoing your educational and vocational responsibilities. Must feel strange for someone typically detached."

"Wut doesh dat mean?"

"It doesn't take an impressive I.Q. to decipher it…" she muttered to herself, bored by his cluelessness. She brightened thereafter. "So, where's my case study?"

The brushing ceased and so did the water. Shinichi stepped out of the bathroom with a grave expression.

"Now those are some pearly whites." The scientist grinned slyly. Shinichi, wearing a magnificent deadpan, had never revealed his teeth.

"Haibara, I really need you to—"

"You're too paranoid, Kudou-kun."

"I need you to listen," he repeated somberly and she waited, allowing him his rare moment of traumatized rambling. "Ran… is a very unusual girl. She's very different from you or me or anyone else we've ever met, I'm sure. You'll realize when you meet her. Don't… be coy or sharp-tongued with her or anything like that—"

"Do I look like I'd be sharp-tongued with this girl?" Her inexpressiveness deserved an award. "I don't treat patients the same way I treat conceited people like yourself."

"Patients?" he scoffed.

The young woman raised her eyebrows, smirking knowingly. "Speaking of sharp tongues."

Shinichi slapped his face, and very willingly acknowledged his defeat. "Look. Okay. That's exactly what you're not supposed to do. Don't be a smart-ass. And, also, don't assume she knows any… gestures or expressions with implicit meanings which signify certain things to us."

Haibara Ai raised an eyebrow.

"Like that!" He pointed at her euphorically. "Don't assume she'll comprehend implications. She, uh… won't."

Ai pursed her lips pensively, and looked around. "So? Where is the mystery girl?"

"Right upstairs. The last door on the hallway. She's asleep now. I don't know whether I should wake her? Let her know you'll stay with her for a little while?" He headed towards the stairs, his concern palpable.

"No, no, it's okay. She won't feel scared. We're in her environment and I'm just passing by. Besides, we're two girls, she won't really feel intimidated."

"The woman-to-woman interaction trick doesn't function with Ran. It's been tested." Shinichi grimaced.

"Well, they haven't tried it with me." She suppressed a smirk as she walked to the stairs, gripping her briefcase which contained God-knows-what.

Ran's wellbeing burdened Shinichi's mind as he left the mansion, already several minutes late for school.

* * *

><p>"Ran-san?"<p>

The girl's eyelids slowly opened. A blurry whiteness sharpened into a vacated space on the sheets. Her hand sensed the coolness of the fabric. A wordless dictation directed her eyes to turn and look at the door.

A young woman—very slim, very small, with roughly her height and short, light hair—watched her respectfully.

"Ran-san?"

Ran glanced about, searching for him and not finding him, hyperventilating as she curled at the head of the bed and clutched the headboard's iron bars. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered when Shiho's arm touched her back and her hand cupped her own hands, attempting to ease her grip. Ran wouldn't let go of those bars. Tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs emerged from her chest as she hunched.

Miyano Shiho solely held the girl's hands, still attempting to relax her fingers as she calmly observed. The episode would pass.

* * *

><p>Shinichi irrupted through the entrance door, eager to meet Ran and ensure everything had gone well. To his surprise, the two girls sat at the second living room, watching television.<p>

Upon closer inspection, he realized the screen had been muted and remained on to merely buzz. Both Ran and Haibara's heads were dipped, concentrated on an item between the latter's hands.

_Wait—_

" 'Grebeshkov took a pint of vodka out of his pocket and flashed it before the comedian's eyes. At the sight of the object of his passion—' "

_Anton Chekhov?_

" '—the drunken man forgot all about his beating and whinnied with delight.' Do you know what Passion is?" inquired Haibara to Ran, repeating the word. "Passion."

She pondered, as if attempting to withdraw information from some deep corner in her mind. Her brow furrowed as she looked at Shiho, visibly disillusioned. "No passion."

"Do you know what Sight is? Sight? To see?"

Ran indulged her, pointing at her eyeball.

"Good! Man?"

Ran touched her chin thoughtfully, before pointing brightly at Shinichi. His heart raced.

"That's correct, Ran-san. Passion. Passion is… remember what I told you about Love? You love the sun." Ran smiled. "You love the sun. You have a passion for the sun. Yes?"

"Passion. Love?" Ran muttered, anticipating the conclusion.

"Same thing. Do you know what…"

"I passion for Shinichi." She grinned brightly as she reached up at him, touching his coat. Kudou Shinichi hadn't the time to process her grammatically evolved sentence. His face was too busy producing an unprecedented shade of crimson.

Miyano Shiho grinned, her gaze wicked as she watched him and the girl before her. "Ran likes the sun, she loves the sun, she has a passion for the sun. As much as she likes Shinichi and thus loves Sh—"

"All right, that's enough," he huffed agitatedly. Ran's smile kept dazzling his brain; it was handicapping him.

The scientist stood and walked to a nearby armchair, gathering her coat and briefcase. She walked around the sofa and tapped Ran's shoulder goodbye, before striding towards the vestibule to put on her shoes.

"Hey, wait! What about your observations?"

Her gaze analyzed an invisible object as she responded, her mind clearly occupied. "I'll provide my analysis by tomorrow morning. Come by then." And she left.

* * *

><p>Ran continued watching her book; <em>watching<em> it since she was unable to comprehend the kanji yet. Her fingers flipped the pages carefully, with an appreciation for literature Shinichi hadn't ever witnessed on anybody. With great heedfulness, he sank the cushions beside her, cautious to not disrupt her concentration; regretfully, he did.

The young lady brilliantly gazed at him, urging him to read a passage aloud.

She'd never spoken.

He failed to realize how he'd understood her request.

Bemused, the detective borrowed the book from her and searched for a short and simple story – technically, there were numerous to choose from – when the bell suddenly chimed through the house. Already frowning and feeling unusually vexed, Shinichi stretched around to look out the window, failing to distinguish the figure at the door. He sighed heavily while depositing the book, before rising from the couch.

Ran's hand on his leg stopped him, and accelerated his heart. "No…" she whined, lifting the leather-bound Chekov stories towards him as a furrow creased her brow. Her hand waved the book at him significantly.

"I know, I'll read it to you. Just one second. Wait for me one second."

Her pout remained intact. An index finger tapped at the book's pages impatiently, eliciting a smile from Kudou Shinichi. Never had he seen a person so desperately eager to read a book. It was genuinely charming.

"I know. Wait for me _one second _and I'll be right back, okay? Right back." He grinned broadly at her, whereupon she visibly relaxed; only then did he march towards the door. On his path to the entrance, the young man had to wonder for a moment, inquisitively, introspectively: Did he just flirt with her?

Shinichi's face reddened profoundly at the thought, for its answer seemed irrefutably simple. He was trying to seduce her and he didn't even know it. How stupid could one get?

His palm collided into his cheek with a slap, rubbing his face and shuffling his hair in frustration. He could use some help when it came to women.

Upon opening the door, Kudou Shinichi deadpanned. He should've foreseen such obnoxious ringing as emerging from such an obnoxious and unsavory human being.

With an impatient glower, he approached the gate and observed her with mistrust. "Suzuki."

"Kudou. I need the key for the classroom, if you have it. I'm on duty for clean-up today and I need it to lock the classroom."

Shinichi quirked an eyebrow. "I don't have that with me. You should ask the student who was last in charge of cleaning—it wasn't me."

"But people said you were the one who had it."

"Huh? How is that possible? I wasn't the last one."

"I heard that the last guy who was on charge of cleaning pulled a prank on you and slipped the keys inside your bag today. I guess he expected you to find out, but you never did."

"Who did this?" Shinichi half frowned, half glared at the Suzuki heiress. He found her and her story dubious; a prank in itself.

She glowered. "How am I supposed to know which of your friends did it? Look, I just need the keys so I can tidy up and go home. Could you please at least look for them in your bag? It'll do me a great deal of help. I'll wait."

The young man looked displeased, and after much hesitation, he opened the gate. "Okay. You can come in while I look."

"Thanks." She slipped through the squealing gate and followed the school's idol to the door. Sonoko didn't think much of him, aside he was undeniably good-looking and unbearably studious. Though everyone got along with him, she didn't. She found him too sarcastic and stoic at times, on topics she couldn't understand a word of; she assumed they were academic in nature.

That was his most glaring and fatal flaw: he was too intellectual, too incomprehensible. She liked them more sportive and liked them to play rough. Humor was crucial.

Once in the vestibule, the unfunniest man alive turned to watch her, with—was it boredom? Annoyance? Superciliousness?

_Who the hell cares_, Sonoko thought.

"You can stay here, I'll be right back."

"Okay, thanks," she replied as he trotted up the stairs. The girl stood still, well aware she'd now stepped into Kudou's secret territory. All the girls at school (or at least those who fawned over him, who were most) wondered what his home looked like, since none had ever gained entry. They often contented themselves with loitering outside the gates of his house, waiting until approximately nine thirty when a bathroom's window lit brightly and the silhouette of a man's bare torso appeared, blurred, dark. They had watched as he bathed and had drooled more than once.

This brought Sonoko to the task she'd assigned herself.

Soundlessly depositing her shoes, Suzuki Sonoko surreptitiously stepped into the hardwood-floored foyer while wearing her socks, and looked to her left: a colossal Turkish rug, some comfortable looking chairs, exotic masks. To her right: a glass and iron table with iron chairs (_Nice_, she thought instantly, her fashion cap always on) and a vanilla couch. There was a head visible and Sonoko knew she'd struck gold.

Earlier today, during lunchtime, she'd overheard a conversation shared by some of her classmates; those who participated in Kudou's fan club. They'd awaited the appearance of Kudou Shinichi's silhouette the night before, with an anxiety greater than usual due to his absence from school. To their surprise, at approximately nine o'clock, the bathroom window shined. _Early… odd_, they'd thought. Anticipating the delightfully broad back and fifteen minutes of pure glory, they'd fallen silent and gaped in stupor when a small shadow appeared instead. It had long hair, slim arms, and a small waist.

Initially, there had been disbelief.

However, when the generously proportioned bosom became noticeable, all girls had fallen prisoners to full-blown hysteria. Ultimately, both female and male students wished to know the identity of Kudou Shinichi's lady visitor.

And this was where Sonoko fit.

She would discover and deliver the breaking news to the school—_Kudou Shinichi's Lady Friend: Her Identity and the Nature of Their Relationship_. She'd charge students for the article. It would mark the beginning of her own enterprise.

_First the investigation though_, the adolescent reminded herself.

Stealthily, she approached the couch, her eyes firm on the brown hair reclined on the cushions, the face and body shape gradually becoming visible. The girl wore only a pair of jeans and a dark blue plaid shirt. Her classmates were correct; she looked curvaceous.

The brunette's gaze rose to meet hers; inquisitively did she look. She was pretty.

"Hi, I'm Suzuki Sonoko, a friend of Kudou-kun," she lied with a smile, her eyes shining cunningly. _Gotcha_. It was socially mandatory for the girl to nod, smile and introduce herself in return now.

Yet Sonoko blinked. Repeatedly. Her statement was followed by a sepulchral silence. That wordlessly patient expression remained in the girl's eyes; that expectant, weird stare. A book inertly sat on her lap.

_Oh great, here we go again. Another bookworm. Figures._ Sonoko's realization was drowned in disappointment, though she didn't allow it to surface.

"So! I heard you and Kudou-kun are friends. So to speak…" She smiled insinuatingly. Sonoko had to establish trust. "Oh, you mind if I sit over here?"

The heiress accommodated herself, preparing the conversation she'd organized in her mind. It would be compelling. The girl would have to speak.

_If you need romantic information, you need to give romantic information first_, she reminded herself reassuringly._ Well. Or at least something sort of romantic… whatever._

"I had a friend too," she confessed with a shrug. "We stopped seeing each other five months ago, though. It's terrible because we got along great and everything, but… well, you know how it goes." Sonoko smiled hopelessly and expected an understanding smile, maybe even a private detail from her sole listener to provide a bit of comfort.

There was nothing, though.

Either this girl was mute or she was stupid. Or maybe she genuinely didn't care for meeting her.

Sonoko ignored the brunette's irksome indifference. She'd continue with her confession. More personal information would push her to speak, out of empathy.

"We weren't even supposed to be going out. My parents think I'm abstinent. Well, I am. Well… sort of. I signed the pledge and everything when I was twelve. You did too, didn't you? I don't see the ring on you, though." Sonoko inspected the girl's hands curiously, and Ran's gaze followed her own. She failed to understand what there was to observe in her thin fingers.

"Ah, lucky you, you didn't make the pledge, didn't you! You probably have all the guys you want. The best ones, too." She grinned slyly, implying the young man upstairs as she watched her companion. The girl was still silent, though.

"Others aren't so lucky. They're forced to improvise. Like, you know, most people gotta do it through the mouth, or by using their hands only. You know what I mean?"

Ran didn't know what she meant.

"Sometimes you even have to do it… you know… back _there_." Sonoko laughed nervously.

Ran blinked.

"Oh man, that can hurt _so_ bad. Take my advice: just do it through the mouth. Partial is a good idea too, like, you know, when you don't let him go in all the way and you pull out at the end so your parents don't kill you later. But if you gotta do it back _there_, you know, you wanna use lubes. There are even _flavored_ ones—!"

"SUZUKI, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"

The famous detective's scream was perceived in the street, outside, as a faint and distant vibration; it echoed stentorianly throughout the mansion. Suzuki Sonoko gaped at him, flustered and embarrassed, while Ran clutched the back of the couch, disturbed by his explosion.

"W-we're just having a discussion between girls—"

"Take your girl-to-girl chat with that key that's hanging from your pocket and just get the hell out of here." His face had darkened into a somber and murderous-looking crimson.

Sonoko's eyes widened, her hand slapping her jacket's pocket; there was the key dangling. _Damn._ She snuck it back into her coat as she stood, hurriedly and furiously.

"You can't just stop me from talking to someone!"

"OUT. You come inside my house just to spread your perverted stories?"

"Per—how dare you!"

"I want you out."

"No wonder you've never had a girlfriend, Kudou, you've always been such an asshole!"

"Don't make me say it again!" Shinichi warned, continuing his rodomontade. "Don't ever talk to Ran again."

"I feel pity for her for having to put up with you!" Suzuki Sonoko had stomped her way out the door when she swiftly turned around, a glimmer in her eye. "So her name is Ran? You call her by her first name only?"

"OUT!" He slammed the door on her face. And quietly reflected for some moments. Before opening it again. His classmate was already standing by the gate. "Neither partial coitus nor coitus interruptus prevent pregnancy; only oral contraceptives and condoms do. You also get diseases through all the types of sex you described, and the condom is the only option for preventing illness. You perverted freak. Why don't you tell that to your so-called abstinent friends as well?"

He slammed the door shut on her protests.

* * *

><p>"I shouldn't have let her in… I shouldn't let anyone in…"<p>

Kudou Shinichi sat upon the couch, cradling his head, finding his fetal position exceedingly comfortable. Never did he allow any visitors, aside from Hattori Heiji—a competitive adolescent detective he'd befriended during a case—Agasa-hakase, and Haibara. Three people. And only occasionally did he invite them.

It took a single moment of carelessness for the dissolution of society to irrupt his home.

And prey upon Ran, of all people. Someone so different. So healthy.

He felt a gentle pressure around his arm and found Ran's hand encircling it. Swiftly, a pleasant warmth swelled within his chest and spread to his face as he watched her, his frustration dissipating. She seemed overwhelmed with concern for him. Her hands lowered to his own and grasped them, with an intensity which resembled his own during the day before.

Shinichi blushed deeply and stammered. "Th-thank you, Ran. I'm okay."

"Okay?" She observed him penetratingly, verifying his sincerity as his face heated just a bit further.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay." He glanced away, feeling very deeply embarrassed by the situation. She wouldn't let go. Her hands felt so soft, like smooth porcelain.

He would die at this rate.

"H-how about I read you that story? Let's read." He slipped his hands away and grasped the book, feeling uncomfortably hot as he reclined against the sofa and flipped the yellowing, aromatic pages. Ran slowly leaned beside him, and to his utter bewilderment, she gently poked his reddened cheek with curiosity. For some moments she observed his skin, warmed into an appealing crimson; apparently, she must've enjoyed it, since a very soft smile formed on the contours of her lips as she observed him. Not that he was watching there.

Just as unexpectedly, she leaned back against the cushions and peeked at his selection, eagerly waiting for him to begin.

Thus, he did.

* * *

><p>A golden reading light glowed in the room. Kudou Shinichi sat upon his parents' bed, now made his own. And Ran's.<p>

He could think of the Kudou residence as _their_ house to some extent, without blushing; though not the bed they shared as _their_ bed. Such simple, deductive reasoning would cause a meltdown in his brain cells and disturbances who knew where else. The awkwardness and self-deprecation would be unbearable.

The eighteen year-old sat cross-legged on the bed; he scanned papers printed from online websites, journals and reports. His own notes added to the disarray surrounding him.

To the cadence of Ran's relaxed, soft breathing, he recapitulated.

By the looks of independent agencies' reports and this corporation's own publications, Komatsu Biological Research Services appeared to be anything but transparent. Few names were available. He found Mitsune Ryuuichi, however, doctor in microbiology from Toutou and some editor for this corporation. Arduous work from Shinichi's part produced two Matsura's: one a field coordinator for the Evolutionary Biology department, the other a geneticist.

The field coordinator's private website revealed he oversaw large overseas excavation projects undertaken for the discovery of various petrified myriapods; the little ones, encrusted in stones for millions of years, had their anatomies studied. The geneticist was apparently involved in the experimental department and had authored two scholarly papers, both focused on the identification of nucleotide groups and their effects on human biology. His reports provided comparisons between human genes and those of other members of the organic world.

Doubting that a man brushing off sand in southwestern Egypt and eastern Libya could've managed to harm Ran all the way in Japan, Shinichi cautiously placed a greater mistrust on the geneticist.

He sharply recalled the man, Mitsune, who had searched for Ran. Recalled the same man claiming her at the police department. He recalled the pensive gaze the microbiologist wore before leaving, an understanding gaze, one that spoke of knowledge.

They knew Ran was with him.

Shinichi collected the papers and piled them on the night-table, before reclining and settling his head against the bulging pillow, studying Ran's face. She'd gone to bed early after an exhaustion overcame her. His finger mechanically brushed her cheek very gently. The softness of her skin spoke to his brain, electrified his cells, though he never consciously realized, _My finger is caressing Ran's face._

Watching her and that inexplicable hand on her cheek, he thought:

_Ran, who only knows her name. Along with those strange numbers._

_Who naturally knows the words Food, and Sunshine, and Coffee. Coffee Grains, rather. Who knows the word… Yesterday. Who knows Lunch. And House. _

_But not the word Home._

_She was found in an alley, in the early morning, wearing a tag-less, long-sleeved, oversized shirt; some underwear, no bra, nothing more. When I questioned her, she was scared of what happened to her Yesterday. Or perhaps she wasn't able to express what occurred with her limited vocabulary._

_She's definitely scared of Komatsu. She was scared of a Matsura._

_She's scared of salads too, oddly._

_She's described as mentally challenged, though has proven otherwise. Her ability to register new concepts is uncanny, her ability to learn is admirable—so why, at eighteen or so years of age, does she not know how to speak? She isn't mute and her pronunciation is perfect, which means she's continually heard language. She obviously never got the chance to practice it, though._

_She must've been isolated from society. But she doesn't seem to have any major psychological disturbances, which would be observable in those individuals who suffer from a history of confinement and abandonment. How can Ran lack so much social knowledge, yet maintain her psychological health? Doing so seems humanly impossible._

_Speaking of social behaviors, she also didn't know how to dress. Not until I taught her._

_The shirt must've been placed on her; she couldn't have donned it herself._

_The shirt without tags. Without identity._

_The same shirt Mitsune Ryuuichi described at the police station, and which appeared in the photograph._

_What is her connection to Komatsu? Why are they so focused on her?_

_Why do they want to catch her?_

_Ran…_

_Twenty-nine? Fourteen?_

Shinichi's brain fell silent, and he was surprised by his own memory.

He snapped off the light switch, slipping inside the covers and feeling Ran's warmth beside him. As the young man turned on his side, facing her, his breath played upon her curled hand. While pondering over the case and the outcome of Haibara's analysis, while aware of the warm humidity from his lips caressing Ran's skin, he fell asleep.

He returned to the laboratory.

He was back in the room's corner; from where he stood, he could gaze at a girl wearing a large shirt, her muscles stiffened by fear and coldness, her body lying on metal.

The dream was repeated. Her tension, her weary desolation, her captivity were all replayed. She once again learned words—those same words, all over again—and remained inert in her metal bed.

At the moment when the faceless Matsura was to appear in the dream, as he had done before, the environment dramatically changed. The white room and the slab were gone.

Instead, a redwood forest extended around and above them.

Though lost in this forest, the girl rejoiced at the massive trees and the sunshine which dappled her cheeks. With closed eyes, she smiled at the cool wind. She wore the same shirt, yet now looked alive. She looked beautifully surreal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** _I will say one thing, however. My short novel's author created numerous stories which inspired some of the most memorable Sci-Fi films in Hollywood history..._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SEVEN<p>

* * *

><p>"Ran. Wake up. We gotta go to Haibara's."<p>

A morning breeze, cool and pure, fluttered the pale curtains of the balcony. The bedroom had become brightly illumined since sunrise, though a single ray had yet to touch the room's wooden floors. Kudou Shinichi groaned somnolently while rubbing his heavy eyes, before turning back to the girl soundly sleeping on the bed. He hovered above her and touched the side of her head, attempting to gain her attention; the softness of her hair impressed him.

Ran's eyes—light blue, nearly violet, indigo—opened very slowly and very unconsciously. Her brown hair, dark as bark, swirled about her.

"We have to go." The detective lowered his hand to her shoulder, his thumb tapping her skin.

"Uh?"

"We gotta go to Haibara's." He rolled the sheets off her, and noticed the darkness beneath her eyes. She seemed to have enjoyed no sleep. Her cheeks were flushed.

"Hm?" Shinichi felt her forehead, her cheeks, detecting them as slightly hotter than usual. Ran grunted softly before her eyes closed. "Are you getting sick?" he whispered to himself, witnessing Ran's gaze rise to his. Her eyes submerged him in that ocean again, where he lost his speech yet gained such deep consciousness. The perfection of her cheekbones, dark eyelashes, profound indigo eyes, and skillfully carved lips became indescribable then. He felt drunk; pleasurably so.

She smiled at him, groggily.

"C'mon," he muttered suddenly, attempting to wake her and himself. "Up." She rose with the support of his arm, blinking dazedly for a moment. "We won't be long. We're going to see Haibara, okay? Get dressed. C'mon, get dressed."

Ran nodded, a soft little grunt emerging from her throat as she stood and walked to her pile clothing. Shinichi exited the bedroom for her privacy, skipping down the stairs just as the bell rang through the house. With a raised eyebrow, he put on his slippers and unlocked the main door, ready to meet the visitor at the gate.

A tall man—gaunt, as made evident by how loosely fell his suit—stood beyond the iron entrance. He wore a hat and held both an overcoat and briefcase in his clasped hands. The eyes revealed insomnia, though his rigid posture and pursed lips indicated his alert senses.

"Kudou-san. I hope I don't bother. I'm searching for my girlfriend. She's disappeared and I believe her brother visited you yesterday."

_Another one from Komatsu. _

_Girlfriend?_

It took several moments for Kudou Shinichi's brain to register that word within such a perplexing sentence. The adolescent mentally cocked an eyebrow and snorted. _You seem a little too old for such a girlfriend, pal._

"Do you have any idea where she could be?" the man continued. He was far more straightforward than the other one.

"She ran away from headquarters…"

"Yeah. You said that already." His gaze, though exhausted, looked sharp. "You got any leads on that—_investigation_ you spoke about?"

Shinichi suppressed a grin. Didn't these people have a clue on how detectives were trained in cornering others? The technique wouldn't work conversely.

"I'm sorry, sir. We're—"

"You were the last one to see her." His words were a statement—factual, simple, unbiased—muttered without a trace of rancor. He spoke with the casual tone one would utilize for discussing the weather; not when your conversation involved the disappearance of your supposed girlfriend.

Normally, Shinichi would've welcomed a conversation without aggression, though in these situations he viewed it as downright abnormal.

"The last one to be in her company, yes. Along with the police inspector."

"And you don't know where she is." A smirk appeared on the man's face, sardonic to its very core. "An officer said he saw you leave the Metropolitan Police Station in the company of a girl about your age. He assumed it was a friend of yours."

"It was," Shinichi replied simply. His unmoved and immutable silence provided no stammered excuses, no indignant denials of culpability. Shinichi felt very comfortable, very calm, and very defiant.

"If you don't find her, I'll be sure to do it myself." The boyfriend's voice, crispy cold, muttered warningly.

"Good luck to you." Kudou Shinichi slipped his hand through the gate, his voice demanding. "Have you got her identification? We need it for the investigation."

"I don't have that with me."

"What's your name, anyway? I didn't catch it."

The man sneered at him, and without a word, walked away.

* * *

><p>"You're late."<p>

Shinichi and Ran had settled upon a couch nearest to the scientist's desk. Haibara's statement was never followed by an offended glare or a disapproving grunt. Her eyes remained glued to a microscope's eyepiece. Elaborate and delicate did the equipment seem; her hands adjusted the focus ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry. A visitor barged in at the last minute to complicate my life. I had a hard time getting back on track."

She didn't reply and seemed to pay him little attention, distracting herself with a manilla folder. Notes and faxes appeared to be within.

"Always peering, aren't you…" she muttered absently, before standing and watching her visitors. "I planned to discuss the contents anyway."

"Discuss? Wait, so what—you found something?" Shinichi's concern produced swift sentences and a furrowed brow. He glanced back at Ran._ Could she have an illness? She's not feeling well today._

"First and foremost, there's nothing wrong with her immune system. She doesn't have an infection or a virus."

His sigh resounded in the room. Ran was probably feeling under the weather right now.

"Her vision and hearing are also good. Her nervous system is good. She's in overall good health." Miyano Shiho reclined on a chair before them, her gaze analytical and thoughtful as she opened the folder. "You should know beforehand I have no diagnosis nor even an incisive idea. This is…" She refrained from applying the word Unusual. She abandoned that thought altogether. "I haven't had enough time to fully analyze the results of my tests, so this is preliminary. Very preliminary. Now. Firstly, the results of the MRI performed on her brain…"

"MRI?" Shinichi's eyes were wide; somberly wide. "You subjected her to Magnetic Resonance Imaging?"

"Yes—"

"How?"

"We temporarily left your house to take a couple images in here with our personal equipment." She met Shinichi's gaping glare. "What is it?"

"I specifically told you not to leave the house!"

"Hey, I exposed her to the streets as much as you've exposed her just now."

The nineteen year-old and her objective stare followed the detective, impassively. He glowered silently.

"So. A kind friend of mine analyzed the images. There is absolutely nothing wrong with her brain; the results came back without a trace of a tumor, or any aneurysm, or anything that could be neurologically impairing." She noticed the relief in Kudou Shinichi's eyes. His reassurance became short-lived, however, as Miyano Shiho hesitated and her silence became extended. "A… rough calculation was made of the number of connections between the neurons in Ran-san's brain. The results were abnormal. It turns out she has far more neural connections than either you or I do. Approximately six hundred billion more."

"WHAT?" Ran recoiled at his outburst and Shinichi grasped her hand apologetically. "I—what—what does that mean?"

The girl surveyed her notes. "Are you knowledgeable of a little neurobiology, Kudou-kun?"

"Only a little…"

"We're born with more than one hundred billion neurons. And there is an approximate total of one trillion connections between these neurons. We reach these numbers of neurons and connections by the time we're a year-old; after then, the neurons and their connections, also known as synapses, begin to die and decrease in numbers. The brain degenerates, in a way; it undergoes the process of entropy, and it does so rapidly. The reason why this happens is because not all neurons and their synapses are useful. As a baby grows into a child, and the child into an adult, he or she learns certain behaviors; as the behaviors are learned, the brain cells necessary for producing such behaviors are preserved and strengthened and increased in volume, while the neurons that are counterproductive for this behavior are destroyed or simply go into disuse. When we learn how to speak, for instance, we quickly realize how the tongue must move in order to create the sounds we're taught; any other movement of the tongue, not used in our language, becomes abandoned. That's why, say, if you've only spoken Japanese all your life and you're suddenly trying to learn the English R or the L, you'll likely have trouble recreating those sounds. Only repetition of those sounds will cause their respective neurons to be active, and strengthened, and useful.

"As I'm sure you will know, this inability to learn new behaviors doesn't always remain the same. There is a peak-time in learning new behavior, particularly language, and that is from the time we're one to ten years old. That's because we have our greatest numbers of neurons and connections during that age, and our brain is most malleable then. 'Plastic' is the word in neuroscience.

"So, going back to where we started, if I tell you that Ran-san has a brain with many more neurons and many more connections, that it is more pristine, it essentially means that her brain hasn't undergone the entropy ours have. Her brain hasn't had its neurons destroyed and its synapses pruned; it is raw. And it also shows that she hasn't learned many behaviors yet."

Kudou Shinichi had leaned onto his knees, as his fingers threaded, his eyes closed, and his mien darkened gravely. He remained in that position for several moments, before his eyes slowly opened. They expressed a palpable worry. "Why haven't her neurons and synapses destroyed normally? If destruction of the brain cell and its synapses is required for learning, as you described, then do Ran's results mean she is incapable of learning? Or has she got an impairment which doesn't allow her to learn rapidly?"

"It's very good you ask that; I wondered so myself." Shiho glanced back at the manila envelope and leafed through numerous pages, her index landing upon a facsimile. "A second MRI was performed, this time after new vocabulary words and the concept of drawing were introduced to Ran-san for some hours. A sudden increase in synaptic activity was observed in the left hemisphere's primary motor cortex, the area responsible for coordinating movements of the right hand; also an increase in glucose consumption was observable in Broca's Area, responsible for understanding and producing language. Calculating glucose usage is another way of detecting brain activity, and brain activity coexists with synaptic pruning, or learning. In other words, there were no signs of mental retardation; far from it, her brain activity levels were unusually high. She is, as Ozu-sensei stated, 'Highly capable of learning.'"

The detective swiftly turned to Ran, a proud glint livening his eyes once again, and the young scientist inwardly smirked. She couldn't remember seeing Kudou Shinichi so mutely yet wholeheartedly thrilled, not since the organization disintegrated into dust after his months of hard work.

Miyano Shiho lowered her gaze to the fax, which described the results of Ran's neural connectivity. Ozu-sensei had fallen head over heals with his images and with the owner of such a unique brain, as could be inferred from his long, enthused and orthographically imperfect sentences. "You may be interested in knowing, Kudou-kun; Ran-san's neuronal connectivity—the number of synapses she has—is comparable to the number of synapses five year-olds have." Her gaze rose to meet the young man's, and she noticed how bewildered he must be feeling. "In other words, her brain has been alive for five years."

Shinichi gaped at the scientist before him, his gaze somber and disbelieving and hardened with stupor. He pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning as he reopened his incredulous eyes. "What?"

"Ran-san is at the peak of her learning; her cells and their synapses are too willing to destroy. It would be impossible for a person our age to have such high levels of brain activity, to learn so quickly, and to possess her level of neuroplasticity—malleability, I mean by that. Her brain is rather new. It is five years old."

Kudou Shinichi was downright glowering. Murderously so. "What have you been smoking, Haibara?"

"It cannot be any older," she reiterated, her arms folding over her chest resolutely.

"Doesn't the idea of possible abandonment or isolation from society seem a little more compelling in explaining why she doesn't know so many things, rather than saying her brain is five years of age?"

"Isolation certainly had a lot to do with her ignorance of social customs, such as communication. But her brain—even in the most remote isolation—would still incorporate anything it learns, would undergo synaptic pruning, and would have a number of neurons and synapses similar to our own. That is not the case. The brain has been developing for five years; _she_ is five years old."

"But Haibara!" Kudou Shinichi was growing exasperated. She wondered why he seemed so staunchly opposed to the idea, aside from its inherent unconventionality. "Ran does not_ look_ like a five year-old!"

"Her brain is five," she replied.

"That is ridiculous! Five years ago, she was either thirteen or twelve years old. How could someone be born as a teenager?"

"How could a teenager rejuvenate into a six year-old child?"

Miyano Shiho's calm, objective gaze observed one of Japan's most prominent detectives fall silent. He swallowed for a few moments. "My case is not the same. A drug did that to me…" he muttered.

"Kudou-kun, we're talking mad science here. Not nature. Your case and Ran-san's is the same thing." She ignored the boy's consternation and flipped numerous pages of her notes, coming across some sketches. Drawings. "For having a five year-old brain, she doesn't know many social behaviors. Which means that she has been isolated from other people for the past five years, as you said. She knows some words, however; you may be interested in knowing what they are."

"She knows the words Lunch, Coffee, Water, Sunshine… Yesterday… and House. I can't remember any more."

He observed the young woman's eyebrows rise, her eyes thoughtful as she scribbled the words. "You said… sunshine and water? What the hell…" she whispered to herself, frowning pensively before proceeding with her notes. "As I was saying, I gave Ran-san a bit of a test. I said some words, and she had to tell me if she was acquainted with them or not. If she was, she had to draw a depiction of the word. All the terms I gave her were basic and would be comprehensible to young children; they would reveal her knowledge of basic terminology, and would also show her perception of these terms. What I found was this:

"All the words she understood had concrete, objective meanings. Words like Face, Man, Eye, Sun, House, Flower—she drew them all. But anything that was social or cultural in nature was beyond her knowledge; and it proves she's been acutely deprived of social exposure. For instance, if I told you to draw a sun, Kudou-kun—just a very simple drawing in a few seconds—what would your picture look like?"

"A circle with lines… just stretching outward."

She smirked. "You've been drawing circles with lines pointing outward since you were a child, because you've been taught by your culture and your society that a sun is drawn that way. But Ran-san did not draw that. Take a look."

Shinichi accepted the sheet extended at him, and perplexedly watched the lines which diverged from a single point in the center of the paper. "Are these… sun rays?"

"Just sun rays. Only outwardly expanding light. No myths." She smirked, before detaching another sheet from her file. "What type of flower would you draw if you only had a few seconds and if it were your first time handling a pencil?"

The adolescent detective blinked at the randomness of such question. "I… what _type_ of flower? I'd draw a daisy, I guess."

"Good." Her smirk was intact. "Have a look at this one."

It seemed a Sakura blossom to him, though inaccurately portrayed; only three petals in one blossom. There were the male organs. The female. Some bluish violet coloring on the petals. Not a Sakura then. The straight stem fell into a cube-like object. The drawing, though appealing, depressed him.

"It's an orchid. A rather detailed drawing. And not the most conventional flower."

"Yes…" The petals, pale and smooth and fragile, resembled Ran's hand beside his lap. His fingers snuck into her palm, feeling its cold clamminess, before enclosing her hand comfortingly, warming it. Her head was fully reclined on the couch, as though burdened with a heavy weight, and her gaze seemed drowsy.

"Those were the tangible words. I tested her knowledge on abstract terminology and culturally-acquired ideas as well. Among the terms I asked her to draw was the word Heart, which is an abstract concept—most people have never seen one, and yet they're already drawing symbols for hearts in kindergarten. Ran-san, however, did not know how to draw a heart. I asked her to draw Love, which would stereotypically require hearts, but she didn't know what the word meant."

"She didn't know the word Love?"

Something in Shinichi's stomach felt strangely numb. His displeasure must've been noticeable, since Haibara quickly added, "She may very well know what love is, or how it feels, Kudou-kun. For her, the emotion may not have a name. This test simply shows that she's not acquainted with the common, cultural term for it."

Kudou Shinichi softly hummed in response, his eyes grave and absent. He experienced a tremendous amount of dejection and he failed to understand why.

"Curiously, something similar happened with the word Face. She could draw a face perfectly well, but when I asked her to draw a Happy Face, or a Sad Face, or an Angry one, she didn't know what I meant. Apparently, anything that is social rather than factual seems beyond her knowledge at this point."

"She is capable of learning social ideas," Shinichi immediately countered. "I didn't see her nod at all when we met, but within a few hours, she was nodding and smiling and shaking her head when appropriate. That is strictly social and cultural in nature, and she learned it, quickly."

The scientist lowered her gaze to her notes, pursing her lips in thought. "Well… that seems to substantiate the idea that she's been isolated from others all this time. And most likely confined."

She was answered with a grunt; a disapproving or perhaps an indecisive grunt. "Ran doesn't show the common symptoms found in victims of prolonged abuse. She exhibits none of the psychological effects of social abandonment, such as depression or paranoia. She did have some nightmares the other evening, but that's not enough to label her with Post-traumatic Stress Disorder. She also knows how to pronounce far too well. Had she been isolated somewhere, she wouldn't have heard the language and she would have an accent when she speaks."

Shiho gnawed the pencil in her mouth, concerned with the conflict presented. "How about confinement in some place where she could've heard language, though where she never could practice it with anyone? Solitary confinement."

"The emotional, psychosomatic symptoms associated with such abuse cannot be observed in Ran. She should be depressed or hyperactive; she should have twenty voices talking inside her head."

"How do you know she doesn't?" Haibara raised her eyebrows.

"She clearly doesn't. She doesn't act like there's another person in the room, and she doesn't babble alone. Besides, what about her drawings? Did they look mentally stable? How was the house?"

"The house?" The young woman looked perplexed. "She drew your house. What do you mean?"

"Did it have any windows?"

"It had windows."

"Curtains?"

"Yes."

"A garden?"

Miyano Shiho began to look annoyed. "Why, yes. With flowers. Why the twenty questions?"

Shinichi folded his arms satisfactorily. "Women will usually draw a house with the windows, curtains, a garden, occasional flowers and sometimes clouds. They're feminine depictions which imply nurturing. Men will draw simplistic rectangles with a roof and a door. You're lucky if you get windows. But you usually never get curtains. Ran's depiction falls firmly under the average drawing; it's good."

Shiho's gaze promptly fell to her lap, inexpressively wide-eyed. She hesitated for some moments. "That's not what, ah… her first drawing looked like."

The young man immediately grew alert. "Huh?"

"She made two drawings. Per her request. The first one looks more like a strange barn."

"What? Let me see!" He snatched the extended sheet of paper. A solid rectangle in the middle of the page, with a parallelogram above it—the roof. Something had been squiggled below the midline of the house. He couldn't discern it. In a way, it did look like a barn; or a house with something graffitied on the lower portion of the walls.

There was no door.

There were no windows.

It looked horribly oppressive, and Shinichi became very worried.

"Are you sure you don't want to consider confinement? Or any possibility of abuse?" The young woman observed him solemnly, her arms crossed analytically as she noted how the adolescent before her had drastically decreased his blinking. His stare had frozen on the picture, and his expression—one of utmost despondence—had been carved onto his face.

"I… don't know…" Shinichi's voice had fallen to an absent whisper. "I never said I didn't consider abuse. She shows no long-term abuse, though something could've happened to her recently…"

"Though it wouldn't exactly explain her complete lack of knowledge on social norms, unless she _had_ been abused for an extended period of time. Or at least secluded."

Kudou Shinichi hummed weakly in response, his gaze still attached to the picture. Shiho's eyes fell to the paper as well, the drab image—though inverted—still visible to her. "It could be a greenhouse too, couldn't it? The doodles at the bottom of the house could be plants."

The detective's eyes widened enormously at her remark, before he noticed the pots and the squiggle-like branching of plants, and realized why no windows were present (since the structure itself was a giant window), and why no doors could be detected, and now consciously registered that greenhouses were a compelling possibility since Komatsu's greenhouse projects, which held largely unknown objectives, were very distinguished among the scientific community.

"What's in your mind, now?" The nineteen year-old looked interested at his unexpected reaction. "You should know that whenever I said the word House, Ran-san would often say the word Green. Which made me think of the greenhouse possibility."

"Ran knows the word Greenhouse?" Shinichi was now gaping, gravely. Wide eyes and seriousness generated a fearful combination.

"It seems so…" she muttered, retaining her aloofness. "Why is that important?"

"Ran knows very few words. They seem to have been explained, and were somehow relevant in her life."

"You think greenhouses were a part of her life prior to knowing you?"

"Komatsu Biological Research Services, have you heard of them?" Shinichi's gaze became mortally firm. "Ran seems to have a connection with them. When she was found in the street and I was called down to retrieve any information about her, a person appeared at the station, providing a description of Ran and demanding to retrieve her. This person described himself as an employee of Komatsu. Ran is terrified of Komatsu."

Shiho furrowed her brow. "How is it she's afraid?"

"She looked very upset when she mentioned the company. A Komatsu employee came searching for her, she started crying, and that's how I took her away from the police headquarters."

"Wait. What do you mean by 'took her away'?" Miyano Shiho looked askance at him. "With permission, I imagine."

"No. We left without anyone knowing."

Miyano Shiho goggled at him. "You kidnapped her?" And she'd once thought the words Girl and Kudou Shinichi joined in a sentence sounded unusual. "I… thought you had permission from the police to have her in your home, Kudou-kun."

"I don't."

She snorted, caught between disbelief and extreme amusement. "Kudou Shinichi kidnapping victims from the police department… who would've thunk." Ai shook her head. "You do know you can go to jail."

"It was illegal for the man who showed up to retrieve Ran; he hadn't any documentation to prove any relationship to her, nor any documentation which revealed Ran's identity. He was the one who attempted to kidnap her, but the police didn't feel like doing extra paperwork that day and so approved Ran's release, even though it was prohibited by law. I deterred such an illegality from occuring."

"By kidnapping her." Shiho nodded to herself. "Logical enough."

Shinichi shrugged. "Ran is afraid of Komatsu; I couldn't let them take her away. She was happy when we fled. She knew we were escaping from them."

The biochemist pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful once again. "So… how was this story relevant anyway? I've lost my train of thought."

"The same man who claimed her at the police station appeared at my house yesterday, reiterating he was an employee of Komatsu. This time, he also claimed to be Ran's brother, even though Ran is not acquainted with the man. He didn't have any identification of her. And he didn't seem concerned with Ran's wellbeing. He said she was mentally challenged. And he seemed far more upset with me for asking proof of his familial relationship to Ran, than with the fact she was supposedly disappeared."

Shiho leaned into her palm. Her gaze demonstrated perceptive understanding. "Maybe he was concerned with finding his sister and didn't want to waste time with paperwork," she offered thoughtfully, wittingly playing devil's advocate.

"A brother would introduce himself as a brother, not as a worker. He was an employee before anything else. His mind was stuck on Komatsu, and Ran only came later."

She nodded at his serious mien. "Very well. Go on."

"Another employee came by this morning, this time claiming to be Ran's boyfriend. He was in his late thirties. He was completely indifferent to his supposed girlfriend being disappeared. His attitude was much too cold for someone whose loved one has gone missing. He also didn't want to release his name."

"Did he say why not?"

"No." Shinichi smirked, growing self-confident. "Though his wrinkled cuffs, the smell of rubber latex impregnated in his hands, and the yellow discoloration near his chin were equally identifying. Obviously he handles medical gloves frequently. The bruises on his skin were typical of those exposed to liquid nitrogen extensively, the chemical for preserving organisms' cells; it's something a geneticist would regularly be exposed to. Ran is acquainted with a geneticist from Komatsu. His name is Matsura. That's the man who came by today."

"A geneticist… you said?" Her eyes lowered to her manilla envelope. "So… how do you think they're involved with her?"

"She's afraid of them. And they're furiously searching for her. They know she's with me by now, I'm sure."

Haibara leaned into her hand again. She was frowning. "So you think they're involved with her, possibly regarding those greenhouses? They did this to her?"

Shinichi's lips tightened. He didn't answer.

"Okay…" she sighed, nearly in defeat, to the detective's bafflement. The girl stood. "Come over here. I have a final test result for you to look at."

Ran was fatigued. She sat buried in the couch, her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed as she sighed in exhausted sickness. Slowly and somnolently did her head fall upon the detective's shoulder, her cheek squishing itself upon him, seeking support. Shinichi blushed fierily.

"I, um… it won't take long, will it? You see, Ran's not feeling very well today…" he mumbled, growing self-consciously warmer.

Shiho analyzed the young woman's face momentarily. "Hm. Well, the blood tests came out okay yesterday. She had no virus, though I can take another test—"

"Wait." The young man furrowed his brow and blinked repeatedly, attempting to register the obscenity he'd heard. "You… took a blood test? From Ran?"

Haibara's eyes were inexpressive. "Yes."

"You subjected Ran to a blood test?"

"How do you think I studied her immune system and determined she was healthy? Through divination?" She glared at him, her impatience a speck short of saying _dumbass_. "Her blood test looked okay; well, as to common illnesses anyway. I'll make another one if needed. But there was something very remarkable that I did encounter in her blood. Would you care to look?" Shiho demonstrated her microscope, positioned on a table just behind the girl's armchair. "It'll only take a minute."

Slowly did he guide Ran to the cushions, ensuring she was comfortably positioned before accepting Haibara's offer and leaning into the eyepiece. Beyond it were darkened, circular cells and transparent, circular cells loitering in liquid. Like bubbles in oil.

"See if you notice anything unusual."

_Unusual?_

The round knobs were anything but remarkable. Primitive structures of life.

There were some other… _things_ floating in the blood as well, though. They had edges more or less. Yellowish. A dark shade of yellow.

_Wait._

_What?_

He recoiled from the microscope, wide-eyed. "Those—look like—"

"Plant cells?" Her eyebrows rose, before the intellectually excited luster of her gaze faded.

"It can't be…"

"Oh, it be. Her body's been creating those. They weren't transfused."

"But it_… _I_… _what… how?"

"What else can I tell you, Kudou-kun?" Unexpectedly, she smiled at the ground with much depression and snorted cynically. Miyano Shiho suddenly looked very tired. "She must have some genetic mutation. Either the mutation is a naturally occuring and highly recessive, primitive trait—which seems highly unlikely—or this Komatsu and its geneticist have taken experimentation too far. That would explain their urgency in trying to catch her. Either way, she's probably worth billions, maybe trillions to them; and if the public finds out, she might also be worth a good lawsuit."

The scientist lowered her gaze to the ground, her arms folded pensively. Shinichi had fallen mute.

"Normally, someone would be ecstatic to find a genetic rarity such as this one_…_" Shiho continued, as an afterthought. "But I've had too many years of this… Biochemistry is not looking as honorable or exciting as it once did."

A young woman whose face expressed nothing but disgust slammed her notes on the table, motioning to leave the room with a furious stride.

Though she halted in her tracks. "Kudou-kun, they're definitely searching for her. Keep her at home, safe, where no one will see her. I'll help you with any outside supplies you may need for now, while we figure out what we should do. Yes?"

Shinichi stiffly nodded and she stormed out of the room. His gaze returned to Ran, both his legs and mind numbing in shock.

Ran dreamt, lightly and restlessly, upon Agasa's sofa. Her hair ramified across the texture of the couch, dark and lustrous, beautiful as the woods. He watched it slide past her shoulder and cascade through the air, swaying rhythmically as his arm curled around her back and lifted her off the cushions. Her bluish violet eyes yearned for sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:**_ ... And he also attended the same university I do._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER EIGHT<p>

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><p>Once at home, Ran's health merely deteriorated and she spent the remainder of the afternoon lying on a couch. Shinichi attempted to alleviate her slight fever, rotating the wet towel upon her forehead, feeling it warm progressively. The coolness of the cloth and Shinichi's hands apparently relaxed her, as she often grew somnolent when he looked after her, and for an hour or two she'd dream.<p>

A long period filled with drowsiness and two steaming soups elapsed. Shinichi's head buzzed with the conversation held earlier in the day, and with the words Ran knew: Greenhouse, Sunshine, Water, Coffee Grains. Strangely, it all seemed to make sense now. Sunshine and water were essential for nourishing vegetation, and coffee grains were often used as a natural fertilizer. Those plant cells were her own; they weren't transfused. They seemed to explain Ran's lack of sociocultural knowledge, her inherently different behavior, her gravitation to the garden. Her rejection to the shredding of lettuce leaves in salads. And the biological company's desperation to find her—their precious financial asset.

_To what lengths will they go to retrieve Ran?_ Shinichi wondered, his frown apprehensive. _Will they kidnap her? Attempt to make a deal? Try to break into the house? Burn the house? Erase any sign of her existence?_

_No. She's too valuable to erase._

The detective's head buzzed with these newfound problems, as well as with radiation. He looked up from his homework, observing and partially listening to the incessant and repetitive chatter on the news.

News show, rather.

"—Bridge's collapse, and we're still watching images of cars being pulled out of the rubble and emergency rescuers searching for—any—any possible survivors. We'll continue to give live updates as this story progresses. And! Senator Kurasaki apologizes for the recent scandal involving four employees from his office in Beika, who received salaries below minimum wage. According to a recent poll, Japanese people say his apology will have to be much more heartfelt than the one he offered yesterday. And! On a lighter note, we have a news story from Hakodate. A purse chihuahua that surfs the Pacific Ocean. Here's the footage… Oh, would you look at that! Wow."

"Hey, he's pretty good!" exclaimed an anchorman. "He's sure better than me! Not to mention that water is cold."

"I know, it must be! He really is good. Wait, or is it a she?" There was a pause. "God, I'm not sure!"

The television was promptly shut off with a firm stab to the Power button. Hacking the screen to pieces became a very tempting thought for Kudou Shinichi, as he recalled just why he never turned the thing on anymore.

The young detective stole a glance at Ran, finding her face pale and limbs sprawled beside him, her body restlessly writhed upon the couch. His eyes darted past the living room, into the shadows of the hallway and the dining room, envisioning the backyard beyond. Suddenly did he stand, leaning above the girl, watching her hesitantly. His hand gently touched her shoulder, unsure of himself, of her reaction, of his idea. "Hey, Ran?"

She had been dreaming a restless sleep. Her eyelids squeezed shut for a moment, before fluttering open, revealing a gaze indescribably glassy. "Shinichi?" she groaned, warmly and tiredly.

The adolescent blushed. Feverishly. Not once had his name been spoken like that; never by anyone other than his family. It sounded remarkably different.

"I…" His gaze lowered to the ground, much too embarrassed to look her in the eye. "Let's go outside, to the backyard. Do you want to?" Profoundly did he flush as he observed her, before pointing at a location afar, beyond an unlit corridor. "Let's go to the grass. Breathe some air. It'll do you good." He took her hand, realizing his palm was the clammy one now. While self-consciously glancing away, he assisted her in rising from the couch, smiling once she stood and supported herself by grasping his side. "You'll feel better."

With an arm wrapped around her, partially supporting her weight, they exited the living room and slowly traversed the dining room. Ran intermittently whined into his shoulder, her weight becoming dead when exhaustion overwhelmed her. Shinichi frowned. Perhaps they should return to the couch, or he should put her to bed? She seemed overcome by something very debilitating. An influenza?

_We should still go. She likes the garden. She'll feel better there. _

The table's elaborate and sturdy legs, along with the eight superfluous chairs, passed by them. Upon reaching the end of the room, Shinichi unlocked a door to the backyard, and both teenagers slowly stepped into the night.

A coolness and tranquility particularly nocturnal surrounded them, accompanied by clean scents of vernal flowers. The brick path froze their feet and they abandoned it swiftly, padding across the crisp grass. It felt comfortably fresh and smooth, cushiony, irregular.

Shinichi loosened his grip on Ran, permitting her to sit, if she wished. The girl sprawled upon the grass, as she had on the couch, though her face no longer seemed as weary. He settled beside her, watching her eyes gleam softly in the nighttime, enjoying the comfortable weather and the garden's silence. Only a neighbor could be heard distantly, opening the backdoor to call out for his cat in the middle of the darkness.

There was an unusual visibility that night. Minuscule and faint dots covered the entire, navy blue skies, accompanied by a lonesome and waning moon. It was a slit, curved and delicate, thin today and destined to thin only further. Eventually it would extinguish, the cycle would recommence, and the moon would wax creamily and handsomely once again.

Ran rolled over, extending her arm to the pool's inert water. Her index finger tapped the surface and she watched a few ripples propagate from the point of impact.

She leaned closer, studying her reflection on the swaying black mirror. A girl looked back at her, with a pale complexion and long straight hair, with a mien of curiosity. Eventually, her observations lost novelty for she rose from the grass, paced about the water in deep thought and observation, and halted before a set of stairs leading inside. Ran cautiously stretched a toe into the water, and smiled upon sensing its coldness, before submerging her entire foot within. An amused cry left her lips and Shinichi laughed.

"Careful. Don't—" he began to advise, though his eyes widened as the young lady submerged her other foot into the pool, this time even deeper—up to her knee. "No, no! Wait! You can't just go in the water like that, not with regular clothes." He ran towards her and pulled her out. "You can't use these clothes," he said, picking at her white shirt to demonstrate his words. "Not these clothes, you need a bathing suit."

Ran's eyes fully reflected the small moon, what little light fell in the garden. She was eager to explore the water; her gaze said so.

"All right, you wait here, I'll bring one. I'll bring a bathing suit for you. Just don't go in the water, okay? I'll be right back."

Shinichi trotted inside the house, glancing around, wondering where he'd get swimwear. His mother's?

Once upstairs and with much deliberation, the young man pulled a bikini from his mother's drawer. Fortunately, as the beach-addict she was, she'd reserved a special drawer for all her bathing suits and thus he wasn't forced to rummage through her underwear. He shivered powerfully at the thought, snatching one of the larger bathroom towels before skipping his way down the stairs.

Everything was immersed in darkness, and very little light glowed off a clock's hand, or a crystal chandelier, or a porcelain decoration here and there. Kudou Shinichi could nonetheless direct himself, his memory and somatosensory system highly activated as he turned from one corridor to a large room, blindly avoiding all obstacles. He turned the glass door's iron handle, slowly and gently to reduce the inevitable squeak, as he carried his load in his other arm.

"Here, Ran. You can use…"

His eyes widened and respiration ceased.

There was a meltdown in his brain, for his words vanished, all vocabulary escaped him; he couldn't even move.

His brain did accelerate his heartbeat, however.

Beneath the starlit skies, he witnessed Ran standing before the water, her clothes abandoned at her feet. Her body was pale—creamy, creamy pale—and her long hair cascaded down her back, which was small and only made itself even smaller at the waist, before gracefully curving outward upon reaching her hips. The tips of her hair curled upon reaching her buttocks. Each cheek was perfectly round, smoothly pale, and most beautifully shaped.

This was not like watching a naked female cadaver.

It was not like watching an image of pornography.

It was nearly a dream.

A very beautiful dream.

His heart pounded, as if working for two people.

Ran inclined towards the water then, granting him one final look, before she jumped in. Seconds later, her head reemerged and she coughed and choked, having drank too much water. For a long time she coughed, until her eyes teared, until she laughed and smiled at Shinichi upon noticing him by the door—still looking very stunned and very petrified.

Flapping her arms and legs beneath the water, somehow swimming her way to the edge, she reached the brick which surrounded the pool and tapped it. Her hand and her enthusiastic grin implicitly invited him to come closer.

_Another learned behavior…_ Shinichi's mind murmured mechanically, monotonously, before falling silent. His characteristic inner voice had apparently muted as well. A part of his brain, still awake, was surprised he'd managed to mentally articulate that great a sentence, though soon enough, it forgot what he was feeling so surprised about. And seconds later it forgot the feeling of surprise altogether. Though still somewhat coherent, his mind was malfunctioning.

Kudou Shinichi numbly stepped to the place which had been patted, and there, slowly, he sat. The towel and forgotten bathing suit lay beside him, neatly folded. Ran smiled at him, still shivering as she swam about. She played with the waves she formed, observed her hair flowing behind her, and touched the smooth blue walls and floors. Multiple times did she submerge her head, and on every occasion would her legs rise against her will and stretch out into the dark fresh air. Shinichi observed them: pale and slim they were, very attractively toned.

_Stop it!_ His mind suddenly scolded, offended by his wordless and sensuous musings.

Ran seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, and she invited him inside more than once. Her offer constantly generated embarrassment within him and elicited a blush from his cheeks, as he bowed his head shyly, politely declining every time.

As his companion twirled and swirled inside the water, her hair rushed, a hand or a leg emerged, a round body part was rapidly and indistinctly revealed.

He didn't know how much time passed; his sense of time had become severely impaired. The young man lifted his gaze to the sky above, observing Orion's belt hovering right over him. He closed his eyes then, the smell of jasmine drifting with the breeze, crickets highly chirping beyond some rosebush. He reopened them to resume his activity of watching Ran swim. She hypnotized him. Something about her glistening shoulders and glittering face, the undulating hair and her wide eyes generated a warm and groggy pleasure in him.

Suddenly, Ran's jovial face resurfaced from the water, right before the pool's wall and directly in front of him. Her hair was slick. So were her arms, which she outstretched to hold the brick road that circled the pool. With great concentration, Ran used her elbows as support and stretched out of the water. The girl sat before him, completely exposed and shimmering, and hugged herself tightly as a breeze teased goosebumps on her skin. Shinichi—in a clumsy, inept and bewildered rush—opened the towel and swiftly wrapped it around her small frame.

Ran stiffly sat beside him, on the grass. The hold of his fingers, which still maintained the towel around her, was fierce; his hand trembled gently, with an emotion unknown. Ran's gaze rose to his. She observed him studiously, meaningfully, as she always did; as though she understood the essence of his existence better than he did. That warmth of her expression struck him with beauty, and the profundity of her gaze left him in awe. Her cheek glimmered palely under the moonlight; her breaths felt hot and humid.

He failed to think about his actions.

"Ran-chan…" His thumb and index held her chin, and he leaned over, pressing his lips against hers. Kudou Shinichi felt his eyes roll back pleasurably, his airway expanding and his heart rate increasing, feeling himself focus on the sensitivity in his mouth; never before had it focused there.

The lips were soft and wet. They were cold. His fingers delved into Ran's drenched and matted hair, and suddenly, he felt alive.

It took long moments before she slowly moved her mouth as well, as if she attempted to imitate his movements; her eyes remained partially opened, always watching Shinichi, learning his features with minute detail.

They slowly leaned back, pressing against the grass. Ran's towel opened. Shinichi doffed his shirt, and petted the girl beneath him, vaguely conscious that this could not be natural. No words formulated in his brain throughout his movements, even when he completely disrobed, or when they kissed ardently.

Crickets continued chirping absently, and jasmine drifted with every breeze. The wind settled at times, before picking up its speed; it quieted, and later rustled the spring trees; it puffed with vigor and emotion, though steadily and predictably so, like the two teenagers' breathing. Some stars weakly twinkled, most remained as negligibly pale specks, painting the midnight blue skies. Their darkness and gentle light was reflected in Ran's gaze. Ephemeral clouds, translucent as stretched cotton, soared above in synchronization with pounding blood. Their bodies and groans rolled deep into the ground.

The grass rustled, not from the wind, but from a hand gripping it. Ran's other hand embraced Shinichi's back, and grass rustled, at a progressively faster rate.

Kudou Shinichi failed to think. Verbally, at least. He wished to say something—what, he didn't know—but his throat and tongue had fallen asleep. So had his brain, he realized, as Ran's forehead pressed against his own. He attempted to think of a word, any word, but failed.

He attempted to think of his name.

Just his name, he desired wordlessly, as he automatically kissed the girl's warm and damp neck. His eyes rolled back again. Just his name. Ran's throat vibrated with a soft grunt. Just a name…

Kudou Shinich's eyes failed to express his awe.

He had become completely blank.

Ran's breaths caressed his cheek, her face blushed at him, and her eyes darkened and gleamed like the night sea. He bent down to kiss her, gently yet wholeheartedly, and with a particular movement did she suddenly stiffen. Shinichi halted, wide-eyed and euphoric as he repeated that motion, and received an intensified reaction from her. While experiencing a second meltdown that evening, Kudou Shinichi repeated his movements over and over, and faster and faster, until heat burned his muscles and thought evaporated. Until the pace and the tension peaked so greatly, they became unbearable.

Kudou Shinichi wordlessly realized his identity then.

He wasn't an intellectual.

He wasn't analytical.

He wasn't even thoughtful.

He was not even a detective.

His feverish body, his palpitating heart, his ragged breathing, his lightheadedness, and that intolerable ecstasy throbbing through him became his real self. At that moment, without words, he learned the meaning and existence of Kudou Shinichi.

He was enlightened by the truthfulness of those ocean blue eyes.

With a strong push, firmer muscles and heartfelt incoherences, did it end.

The night became noticeably quiet and the grass felt cool against the skin.

Kudou Shinichi became pleasurably dizzy for a long time, even somnolent, as he rested beside Ran's neck. Against the warmth of her skin, while observing her gentle gaze, words slowly returned to his brain. With amazement, he realized she had robbed him of his vocabulary. In exchange, she'd gifted him with thought, and realization, and a bewildering level of consciousness. If only for a few moments.

Shinichi shut his eyes, tilting his head to extend his mouth to Ran's. His chest swelled with an emotion he'd always condescended, and he grew more sentient than reasoning. He caressed her skin shortly and affectionately, and with now a sharper gaze, lifted himself off her, supporting her as she rose from the ground.

Ran's cheeks were a blooming crimson, and her eyes looked drowsy. A smile tugged on Shinichi's lips as he bent to kiss her cheek, and wound a careful arm around her shoulders, before guiding her back into the house.

A scattering of clothes remained in the garden, those which belonged to Shinichi indistinguishable from those worn by Ran.

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><p>Beika's most famous resident gazed at the tiles before him, somber and brooding as he sat in a hot bathtub. His knee escaped the water, freezing itself masochistically; the rest of his body lay concealed beneath hot water and foam.<p>

Ran groaned and he looked at her, a furrow on his brow. Upon entering the porcelain tub, she had embraced him and reclined her head on his shoulder, weak and fatigued as she lay beside him. Her health was only declining.

Shinichi moved some strands of her hair aside, exposing her pale back, before running some hot water down her skin. He kissed her lips in a swift, automatic motion, before shutting his tired blue eyes as he leaned against her.

Ran's head warmed his cheek. Her respiration had transformed into continuous sighs, both swift and breathless. A weakness characterized her muscles, relaxed them with exhaustion and illness. Her eyes were closed firmly, tensely, and they vaguely resembled her expression in that strange photograph. A debilitated, tired whine suddenly vibrated from her throat. Her eyes remained closed.

When Kudou Shinichi opened his eyes, they were gleaming dangerously with tears. He concealed his face in Ran's hair, embracing her firmly all the while.

He'd protect her from any association or person who'd attempt to prey upon her. After the syndicate, he'd gained experience in these matters.

Yet could he protect her from himself?

He hugged her firmly, overwhelmed and concerned and profoundly disillusioned with himself. He had harmed whom he loved most. Someone who needed him most, and who deserved the least of his disrespect.

With a welling gaze, his hand brushed her small shoulder. His dark blue eyes looked glossy and distant. He shut them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:**_ This story was inspired by Ran's name, which means "orchid" in Japanese, and I was spurred to continue writing after reading the short, science-fiction novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?" written by Philip K. Dick. It is the sole object I own and one of my favorite books of all time (please do not sue me for it! T.T) If you enjoyed_ _the really out-there aspects of this story, as well as the critiques about society/humanity included, I'd highly recommend reading that novel – particularly the editions which were released prior to 1982._

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><p>CHAPTER NINE<p>

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><p>A moan—unfamiliar, high-pitched, quivering—broke into his ear. Kudou Shinichi awoke with a start, discerning Ran's trembling wrist lying just beside his face, grasping it in the darkness. It was warm and covered in sweat. She whimpered, before squirming.<p>

Initially, he suspected her behavior to be the product of a nightmare, though after pressing his forehead against hers, a very high fever became the undeniable cause of her distress.

Tears slid down Ran's cheeks, innumerable, and her brow furrowed in pain. Under the lamplight, her eyes appeared red, the irises a deep violet-blue. The face, finely sculpted, looked etiolated. She perspired and clutched his hand, damply and firmly.

"Shinichi…" A film of tears covered her eyes.

She witnessed the desperate pallor of his face, sensed his concern when he felt her wet temple.

_A middle-aged man_—_dressed in white_—_and lean—very lean—inclined forward to carefully observe her eyes. His thumb pressed her temple and stretched the skin, slanting her eye._

_"Hm…" he growled, pensively. "That retina is gonna need some more work. The pigmentation and tautness of the skin could be improved; a little more melanin will do her good. Hitoshi, will you take her out to the greenhouse? She needs more sunlight. And water, before we start this."_

Ran gasped, boiling in fever. Shinichi stormed through the room, rummaging for the phone, feeling hesitant about calling an ambulance. Perhaps they would demand Ran's identification; if she hadn't one, it was likely they'd contact the police; and the police would hand her over on a silver platter to Komatsu. Unless, of course, the hospital's management were as inept as the police.

He could always call Haibara and Agasa-hakase. He was sure they would help.

Where was that damn phone?

_Her numerous feet constantly touched clay, her legs snaked about, surrounded by softness and moisture. Everything felt uncomfortable, however. She was trapped in this place, in this can of clay. They all were._

_Sunlight caressed her face with maximum heat; this was the highlight of her days, every one of them filled with small spaces and the cultivation of her kind. They stood in rows. Countless rows. Each yearning for freedom, yet knowingly awaiting an experimental execution. They were trapped in a city of glass and plastic, of metal, of sharp coldness and intoxicating heat. Of ruthlessness._

_"All right, this one. We're gonna give it a boost of water and two hours more of sunlight; you got the coffee grains? I'll combine them with the soil."_

_"What will the name be?"_

_"The Ran, series 2914."_

_"I'll get the label. Hopefully it won't turn out like yesterday's. The Ran 2902."_

_The man with the dark hair and the white coat turned his head, wearing a menacing glower. "It won't." He turned back to her, tilting her torso and stretching some of her legs sadistically. "Pass the coffee grains," he whispered to the other man, soon planting some dark and damp substance at her feet, feet still locked in the cage. "Say goodbye to the greenhouse."_

_His words marked the beginning of her last days._

Ran felt her heart pound; pound as if it intended to crack her ribcage. She squeezed her eyes shut. The successions in her body, though essentially similar, weren't the same she'd experienced hours earlier. They now contained anguish. Her eyes opened, Shinichi's face suddenly materializing in a blur, as if hidden behind sultry fumes.

"Ran…"

He was calling out.

"Can you hear me?"

The movement of his lips indicated he was shouting.

_"Ran…" he'd groaned into her ear, followed by a low grunt. His blue eyes gazed dazedly before he kissed her, and her body throbbed. A very inexplicable and very good sensation pounded through her, with heat, with the water and the earth, pounded spasmodically with the grass beneath her._

_She'd learned to embrace and embraced Shinichi firmly. She'd learned to kiss and occasionally did so, finding the activity odd and agreeable._

_A sudden, heated pleasure pulsed through her and tensed her body, making Shinichi groan._

_He managed to push again, and propagate that wave again, this time more powerfully. _

_He muttered, below his breath, into her ear. _

___"L-love… you."__ _

____Love. ____

__There it was again.__

_His eyes looked dark and drowsy as he kissed her more strangely than ever._

_All words were replaced by groans._

_Those groans marked the beginning of her last day._

The phone was gone. It wasn't anywhere, he couldn't find it, he'd ransacked his parents' bedroom already, yet to no avail. It must've been left in the living room.

Kudou Shinichi glanced at the stairs, tempted to make a dash for his neighbor's house and beseech the good doctor and Haibara to visit Ran. He didn't dare leave the girl alone, though, not with a high fever and what appeared to be delirium. Her pajamas were damp with sweat.

The high school detective slid his arms beneath her, his brow furrowed and posture determined as he carried her out of the bedroom. Ran's pupils were large and unresponsive to light. Perspiring himself, out of panic, he strode down the hall.

"A failed experiment," muttered Ran.

Shinichi sharply turned his gaze to the girl in his arms, stunned by her speech.

"W-what?"

"Unusual mutation of cells in both ventricular regions of the heart. Cause of heart failure. Possibility of mutation in gene 231. Indication of humanoid nature of species."

Shinichi numbly turned his eyes away from the girl, and hurried down the hallway, telling himself not to bewilderedly trip over his own feet.

She was delirious.

She had to be.

"Ran?"

"Renal hematoma on twenty-nine seventeen."

Ran's long hair swayed, her heels bumped together, and her head swiftly bobbed as Shinichi now scrambled down the stairs.

_Whatever you do, just calm down and don't trip, you stupid idiot! _he commanded at himself, his arms trembling nervously.

"Contamination of cerebrospinal fluid in twenty-nine zero four." The girl's dark gaze rolled about the ceiling, unfocused, exhausted, beautiful. "Ran twenty-nine fourteen's organs remain functional; stable blood pressure, strong pulse." She smiled, her eyes black and lost, before tiredly pressing her cheek against the young, baffled man's chest. "She's a failed experiment now."

Questions echoed silently in Shinichi's brain, unconsciously, never managing to articulate. He found himself much too focused on restoring Ran's health to worry about questions.

"Water transfusion is useless; brain activity has decreased by sixty percent. It's useless."

As he rushed through another hallway, with the greatest carefulness anxiety could allow, Shinichi realized Ran was reciting. Perfectly.

"Dump the body."

Haibara was right. Ran had mastered pronunciation and a vast vocabulary in little time.

"Let's cook another one."

Or maybe this disease, this illness, was causing her to recall memories and conversations stored in her brain. She merely repeated.

Ran's gaze returned to his face, and her eyes grew considerably somnolent. Her body noticeably relaxed.

"Another failed experiment." She smiled at him, tenderly, almost bittersweetly. "I failed, Shinichi."

They reached the living room just as Kudou Shinichi reached full-blown panic. He deposited her on the couch, gently; the phone was right on the table. "No, you didn't, Ran. Just hold on." He snatched the phone from its power source and dialed, his brain roaring curses at the phone's slow and purring tone.

"It's gonna be okay. Just hold on."

It was failing to wake those on the other end.

Ran's soft, high grunt alerted him. She was drowsily cocking her head, furrowing her brow as her eyes heavily reopened, to watch him. Shinichi neared the girl, brushing hairs away from her face and caressing her temple as they waited. "Just hold on, Ran. Everything's gonna be okay. You'll be okay___…___" he muttered before pressing his cheek to her own, and kissing it. Ran's eyes were dazedly beginning to roll about, rolling back as if in a coma.

On the eighth ring, a small voice muttered on the other end. "Kudou-kun, what in the world—?"

Shinichi straightened his spine and exploded. "HAIBARA! GET OVER HERE! RAN IS—"

He turned to the girl, and a heaviness pummeled his heart down to his stomach. Knowledge made his lungs cease to be. He swore a sob and screaming and a thrashing of his own home tingled beneath his skin, latently awaiting to emerge.

Ran's eyes were closed, her face tilted against the couch just so, her breast inert, her countenance pale.

In his hand, her fingers were still, smooth as petals.

Smooth like the flower she'd ceased to be.

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><p><em>AN: _

_When does "the flower" die? At the end of the story? When she's with Shinichi in the garden? In the laboratory? At the greenhouse?_


End file.
